


Paint

by Gal_of_Action



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-13 13:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gal_of_Action/pseuds/Gal_of_Action
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How different would Bleach be if Shiro Kurosaki was the protagonist, and Ichigo his zanpakuto? With a violent and borderline bipolar substitute shinigami and a stubborn zanpakuto sporting a hero complex unmatched- Soul Society is in for a shock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

"Listen, Shiro. You don't have a choice; you took the damn oath so you should know!" The twenty year old looks down at the disgusting punk who has the nerve to abandon the Red Hawks. The little freak should be grateful to be involved at all! Yet one day he just strolls into the their base and casually announces to everyone that he quits…? _Quits_! Like that is a possibility. No one quits. Those who try end up spending the rest of their lives comatose in the Kurakura Hospital, as Shiro very well knows- he helped put one of them there, after all.

Shiro snorts derisively at the man and nine others that gather around him. The Red Hawks aren't taking any chances- Shiro is well known as the gang's (former) best fighter, after all. He is strong, swift, smart, not to mention undeniably skilled with a black belt in mixed martial arts... and they are all hyper aware of those facts. "You're the ones who needs to listen. I've said it once, and I'll say it again since apparently you didn't get the memo the first time…" He drawls out, one pale hand casually slipped into the right pocket of his faded blue jeans. "I. Quit," he announces each syllable slowly and flawlessly. Before they can make a proper retort, the fifteen year old goes on. "Not to say it wasn't fun at first… But once the novelty of dodging police cars and mugging hapless convenient stores wore off, I realized just what a bunch of empty-headed, balless wimps the Red Hawks really are." His voice is matter-of-fact, though his words and the sly smirk on his lips show how smug and patronizing he truly is.

Rage wells up in the man standing across, but he swallows it. He'd much rather coarse the brat back than use actual force; no one is exactly eager for the latter just yet. Several threats later however, little headway is made. The albino remains obstinate, and bored apparently, if his listless, idle demeanor is anything to go by. "Alright, I've had enough. If words won't get through that thick skull of yours, a visual aid is needed." Everyone tenses when Shiro smoothly removes a sheathed dagger hidden in one of his boots. He laughs that creepy, high pitched cackle of his at their expressions. "Relax. I'm not gonna attack. Just making a point." They watch warily, dumbfounded, as he takes the blade out of the sheathe and sterilizes the edge with the fire of a lighter. Then he rolls up his sleeve, revealing the Red Hawk tattoo on his upper arm. With barely a wince, he slashes at it. Blood comes out in a steady stream. Shiro's smirk widens. "I hope you losers don't actually believe that this thing is permanent. The rest of you might be idiotic enough to help the police and get a permanent, identifying mark… but not me."

One Red Hawk yells out in protest. "I saw you get the tattoo myself! It is permanent!"

Shiro scoffs in amusement. "Yeah, you saw me get this tattoo with nonpermanent ink, congratulations. It wasn't too hard to convince the artist for a quick switch in ink." It then becomes crystal clear to the Red Hawks ring leader that nothing will convince the guy to come back into the fold quietly. It would be a shame to lose one of their best, but it just couldn't be avoided.

_Good thing I know the freak's one weakness…_ He gaze trains on Shiro's black sunglasses that surrounds his eyes entirely. _Knock those off and he's done for. The albino won't be able to see a thing in this bright sunlight; it's the reason why I choose to come after him in broad daylight._ By this time the Red Hawks have surrounded their one time comrade in a loose circle. With only a small signal, the ringleader sends them charging at the lone figure in the middle.

But Shiro knows immediately what that signal means, and is instantly on the offensive, having always believed the best defense is a good offense. He is almost to the ring leader, both of their blades drawn, when a small throwing knife sores through the air toward Shiro's unprotected back. The slight whistling sound of it soaring through the air is the only warning Shiro needs. With ease, he dodges to the side and watches with satisfaction as the knife meant for him impales itself in the ringleader's chest. Shiro has always had a sort of sixth sense, both literally and figuratively. The seemingly impossible task of surprising the boy is one of the reasons why he is so feared.

The ringleader is down for the count, though luckily enough for him the knife seems just to have missed his heart. Shiro is free to take on the small fry. One of his favorite fighting methods, especially when he has more than one opponent, is to use their own force against them. To Shiro this is hilarious… Dodging so swiftly that opponents run into each other, redirecting the force of attacks so the enemy finds himself with a faceful of dirt… Shiro's job is made all the more easier by the fact that he knows exactly where they are aiming for, his sunglasses. With one tracked minds they go after the pair with absolutely no creativity. "Geez, I know these shades are entirely sexy on me, but do you really think they'd look even half as good on your ugly mugs? Just go buy your own pair."

"You smug baaaastaaaar-" A quick hit to the back of the head with the hilt of Shiro's dagger leaves the guy out cold. Sure, Shiro is a criminal more or less, but murder is first degree. He isn't willing to go that far. No one has pissed him off that much yet.

At this point Shiro has taken down nearly half of his assailants, leaving six more to go. Unfortunately however, they're all close enough for close quarter combat now and almost all have knives in hand. Shiro is good, unmatched one-on-one as far as he is aware, but he isn't god… and the Red Hawks have every intention to expand on their advantage. The first guy to lunge has his knife kicked out of his hand and sent into the guy next to him. Some idiot with a ridiculous rainbow colored mohawk manages to dart forward though and grab Shiro from underneath his arms, locking the albino in place and waiting for one of his buddies to beat Shiro senseless. Annoyed, Shiro swiftly slams his head back, crushing rainbow mohawk's prone big nose. The man howls, releasing his grip and staggering back.

Shiro is about to finish him off when he is beaten to the punch- literally. Out of seemingly nowhere a fist plants itself into rainbow mohawk's face. With a comically shocked, broken-teeth look, the raging thug falls to the ground without another sound, blood now pouring from both his nose and mouth. There above the unconscious body stands proud a petite, fifteen year-old girl, sporting a short, traditionally boy's hair cut. For a moment the rest of the Red Hawks back off, incredulous and stunned by this new appearance. The girl wears sneakers, rolled up sweatpants and a muscle shirt (her usual Saturday garb) while armed only with her fists… and she has the guts to challenge a group of guys, each twice her size?

"Tatsuki…" Shiro greets with a wry smirk, pearly whites glinting almost menacingly. "Nice left hook, but there's no reason for you to jump in. I've got these losers well in-hand..." The remaining gangsters bear their teeth at this, but are a bit more wary to just charge in now that he has backup, no matter how frail looking. If they are friends, they realize the girl has to know how to fight, and she did just take out one of their friends with one punch...

Tatsuki scoffs good-naturedly. "First you're all buddy-buddy with them, and now they're losers? No wonder I'm your only true friend, Shiro."

"Heh. I was never 'buddy-buddy' with them, and you damn well know it. I only hanged around because they were entertaining, but now my patience has run out. I have only so much of it for idiots. That's why you're my only friend." Shiro dodges a messy attack from one of their opponents meanwhile, those Red Hawks remaining naturally not willing to politely wait for them to finish.

Tatsuki raises a fist to her heart in mock gratitude. "Geez, thanks for the compliment… I'm not an idiot; the one thing every lady dreams of hearing."

Shiro's eyes widen behind his sunglasses, white brows shooting up. His smirk turns into a wide grin and he is suddenly clutching his sides, laughing without restraint. Tatsuki has had six years to get used to the sound, but it completely scares the crap out of the rest, whom stare on with looks akin to horror. The sound is almost demonic, and not at all gleeful in the normal sense of the word. Once Shiro has collected himself, he straightens back up with a teasing grin. "Well, if you really think of yourself as one…" He steps back, out of the way. Bowing lowly, he gestures one hand mockingly toward the remaining gangsters. "Ladies first…"

The pair of them together make short work of the Red Hawks. As two of the top martial artists in all of Japan, it isn't that surprising. "Most of these guys rely on brute strength and their pitiful, little knives… Idiots…" Tatsuki remarks with a roll of her eyes, tossing one said knife dismissively to the side. Only a shallow cut to one shoulder and a thin sheen of sweat hints that the teenager was fighting several older boys moments before.

Shiro makes a sound of agreement. "Strength doesn't mean a damn thing if your opponent is faster. Don't know why I joined up with them in the first place, 'sides the cash… Speaking of which…"

Tatsuki groans, setting a hand over her face. "C'mon Shiro; don't stoop so low."

"Che. You call this stooping low…?" he asks oh-so-innocently, pulling out a worn wallet from a downed Red Hawk and then the yen inside. He waves the money in the air, dropping the wallet. "I call it a pack of cigs," he purrs with a self-satisfied look.

Tatsuki rolls her eyes. "Whatever… I've had this conversation way too many times with you," she admits wearily, honestly saddened that her friend would resort to petty thievery for some extra cash.

"Got that right," he returns off-handedly, getting to work and shuffling through various wallets and some pocket change. Shiro doesn't understand what the big deal is. He always thought that this beats some cranky boss whining about his appearance by far. Some people never got off his back about his pure white hair, unable to process that this is what an albino is _supposed_ to look like…

Nothing more to say for the time being, Tatsuki snatches up a cell phone from the currently snoring, rainbow mohawk guy. Shiro glances at her curiously. "Don't think the style suits you, Tatsuki," he comments with a quick snicker, regarding the rainbow colored flip phone in her hand with some amusement.

"Oh ha ha. I'm calling an ambulance," she explains in a clipped tone.

"What for?"

"What do you think? One of them has a knife in his chest," she points out dryly.

"Not my fault. I just dodged," Shiro replies offhandedly, unconcerned.

"I know that… Just the same, if he dies do you really want this to come back to haunt you? It could happen, in more ways than one." They share a meaningful look, Tatsuki's underlining message clear. She knows her best friend like the back of her hand, and he has long since told her the entire truth concerning his… sixth sense.

"... Do what you want."

"I will." She calls for the ambulance, giving them the location and number of injured, though no names. Tatsuki hangs up right after. "Well, they're on their way. Are you almost done?"

"Yeah… Here," he offers her a wad of catch. "Consider it spoils of war."

Tatsuki wrinkles her nose in disgust at the thought of taking the money. "This was a stupid brawl, Shiro, not even a proper fight. I'm not taking that."

"Don't be such hardass."

"What'd you call me?" She asks lowly, shooting him an unimpressed look.

"Nothing, my lady," he responds sarcastically, before regarding her with a brief moment of seriousness. "Just take the damn money. You earned it." Shiro abruptly reverts back to his default smirk. "'Sides… You know that if you don't take it, I'll only buy you something pretty with it instead. How do you feel about… black lingerie? I could give it to you in class and-"

Tatsuki holds up a fist, a tick mark practically appearing on her forehead. "You wouldn't dare," the tom boy declares threateningly.

He shrugs some. "You're right, you're right. Respect you too much for that. Doesn't mean I won't get _something_ , though."

Tatsuki purses her lips tightly. "Fine," she determines reluctantly, snatching the money away and ignoring the smug look on her best friend's face, lest she try to punch it. "You're such a bad influence…" She mutters.

Shiro grins from ear to ear. "I know."

After promising Tatsuki that he'd be at practice in the dojo tomorrow, they both part ways and quickly leave the premises. _And good riddance…_ Shiro thinks, not glancing back at Karakura river, or the bridge that stands over it. Shiro hates the place, and only went there so he could fight uninterrupted… That is, uninterrupted if Tatsuki was intimidated by the wildly popular rumor of the haunted riverside, like much of the Kurakura populace.

Truth be told, the riverside is haunted. It tends to attract spirits like honey does flies, for whatever reason. Having always possessed the ability to see and communicate with the dead, the albino naturally knows all too well… and honestly, communicating with spirits isn't all it's hyped up to be in his opinion. It became old years ago. Sometimes it is useful though, if the spirits are willing to make deals. For a while Shiro reveled in having supernatural spies, digging up dirt on pests (teachers, peers, anyone who got on his nerves), and all it usually took was a few simple tasks in return. Telling someone they left behind that their dearly departed still loves them, and will always miss them, or settling an old grudge that prevents them from passing on… The latter is especially fun, Shiro believes. The look horror on some person's face when a red-eyed, pale figure appears in their house, preaching doom and gloom while spouting their deepest, darkest secrets that no stranger could ever know. One time, after a particularly good and terrifying speech on Shiro's part, the recipient begged on his knees for Shiro not to take him to hell, convinced that Shiro was the grim reaper or some shit there to punish him for his sins. It took all of the teenager's self-control not to burst out laughing right then and there…

"Did I do well?" comes a quiet, tentative voice to one side of the sidewalk Shiro is on.

_Speak of the devil…_ Shiro ponders silently with some mirth. He turns to regard a young girl, looking about ten or eleven. With brown hair in pigtails, she wears a pink and white striped dress. The severed chain connected to her chest and somewhat translucent appearance makes it blatantly apparent her status as a ghost."Yeah. You did perfect, my little minion," Shiro says, winking playfully at her. "Thanks to you, I was able to choose on my own terms where it went down."

The girl beams in delight, proud. "Wonderful," she declares, clapping excitedly and momentarily forgetting her usual polite, reservation when around the older. It doesn't last long, however.

Shiro's smile dims. "What's going on with you?" he asks, eyeing her critically.

"Well…" She scufs one of her red and white shoes against the pavement below. Of course, her shoe and foot passes through, but the meaning behind it is clear. She is nervous. Afraid.

"Tch… What's wrong, Saya? It's not like you to keep secrets from me." It's true. From the first time Shiro met the little spirit, he has come to know her as well as his own two sisters. Unlike the majority of spirits Shiro deals with, Saya has wanted nothing more than someone to talk to. Someone who can see her and actually hold a conversation. Apparently fellow spirits aren't good companions, concerned as they are with their own recent death and making right with the living before disappearing to Kami-knows where. Another thing that sets Saya a part. Unlike all the other spirits, Saya seems to have no interest in parting ways. Usually spirits disappeared after a few days, a week tops. Shiro has been meeting with Saya regularly for a little over a month now, playing games and conversing with the young girl in turn for the latest spiritual gossip and other tid bits she thinks would be helpful to Shiro. It's reached a point that Shiro has started to jokingly call her his 'little minion'.

"When I was watching those men like you wanted me to, I ran into another spirit…"

Shiro raises an eyebrow, somewhat impatient. It is nearly sunset and he is hungry. Yuzu is supposed to be cooking tonight, and on top of that he still wants to buy some things before he heads home. "And…?"

"He was not a normal spirit."

"That right?" Shiro questions off-handedly, running a hand through his short, white locks.

"He didn't have a chain. He wore a black uniform, and carried a sword." She begins trembling, and abruptly Shiro stops his idle motions, training his attention on her. In all the time he has known her, she has not once cried, even while speaking of her death. Now though, she seems close.

"Tell me everything." Saya agrees.

She explains softly to the best of her ability, hands clasped tightly in front of her all the while. She tells how the spirit had confronted her and explained that she needed to 'move on' or something bad would happen. When she adamantly refused, he took out his sword and it looked like to her that he wanted to hit her with it's hilt. She ran. He nearly caught her, but she managed to sneak away when for some reason he became heavily distracted... Although Saya admits that she has no idea by what.

"Wellll…." Shiro draws the word out, intrigued even by the ridiculous description of the spirit. Black clad, sword wielding, afro-possessing spirit? "This has definitely got to be the most interesting thing you've ever told me." He pauses. Shiro wants to know more, but knows sending his little minion to go search for clues would be folly. She'd probably be attacked again, if this ghost is a crazy as he sounds. Saya meanwhile nods mutely as Shiro studies her closely in thought. "Sorry to say, shrimp, but it's not safe any longer to hang around outside with your vase of flowers. You should go to your parent's place- it'll be harder for him or any like him to find you that way." _What a pain. Now I'll have to find some other spirit to replace her._

"Okay…" she agrees quietly, understanding the logic behind the suggestion.

"Okay," Shiro concurs, entwining his hands behind his neck. "It's been good workin' with you, little minion. Stay safe." And with that he turns around and walks away.

….

….

...

...

_Damn it._

Shiro whirls around, smile strained, irritated with himself. Saya has not moved from her last position. The ghost continues to float there motionless, hands clasped tightly in front of her and pig tails hanging limply. _Like some freakin' puppy dog's ears drooping._ Shiro thinks sardonically. "Alright, kiddo. What's wrong with you now?" He snaps a bit, looking at her expectantly.

She jolts a bit, appearing apologetic. "... I have nothing more to offer you in return if I can't gather information anymore, so there's no point in telling."

Shiro stares at her for a full thirty seconds while she shifts restlessly, uncomfortable under his gaze. _She has a point…_ Shiro closes his eyes briefly behind his sunglasses. "It's not like I'll agree to anything. I only want to know." He opens his eyes again, smiling lopsidedly at her. "So tell me- and hurry up about it, will ya?"

"If you want me to," Saya agrees quickly. Realizing his dwindling patience, she cuts right to the point. "I don't know my way home from here. I only know how to get back to my vase."

Shiro frowns, put out. "Seriously?" he mutters, not exactly wanting a response, just venting his frustration. Unfortunately, Saya doesn't realize this.

"Yes. I'd never been to this side of Karakura when _it_ happened. I've since come to know this area, but I still have no idea how to get home from here. Once I tried to follow my parents home when they visited my vase and replaced the flowers. It didn't work out, the car was so fast and I got so scared I would lose it in the hustle and then not even be able to find my vase or you again…"

Shiro raises a hand, putting a stop to her long-winded explanation. "I get the idea. What's your home's address?"

Saya's eyes widen. It sounds like he would help her! Just the same, she isn't about to get her hopes up, or question him. Then his question processes. "Address… Ah, ano… I think it starts… with a three?" Saya ponders, looking up and setting a finger against her chin.

Shiro sweatdrops. He turns on his heel and begins walking. When he gets three feet away, he orders with a carefree attitude, "Follow me."

"O...okay!" She floats after him cheerfully. "Where are we going?" Saya asks several minutes later, when her anticipation and curiosity meets an all time high.

"A store. Then my place. I've told you about my family, but just the same, fair warning. My old man is a loud idiot, though fortunately for you he won't be able to see or hear you. Karin can see you and everythin' like me, but she'll ignore you. Yuzu will be happy to have you around; you can hang out with her, only don't expect much. She can sense the presence of spirits, and sometimes can vaguely see shapes. That's it."

"That's fine. That's more than fine! Thank you so much, Oniisan!" Shiro freezes. Saya has darted forward to hug him, and he could actually, sorta feel the ghost's touch. It is… odd. Only Yuzu, one of his younger sisters around this girl's age, touches him like this. That aside, he isn't sure how he feels about the new nickname either. He already has two younger sisters around this kid's age- he really doesn't need another to look after.

The brunette looks up at him, tears of happiness in her eyes. She isn't even put off by the reality that Shiro is not embracing her back. One side of Shiro's lips twitches upward in teasing smile. "Don't go cryin' all over me now. I'm only doing this because out of all the spirits I've made deals with, you've been the most helpful. It's not permanent or anything, either. I don't want to run around Karakura for the rest of this evening looking for your folks' place, is all."

She sniffs, holding back her tears. "I won't- and I understand. Just the same, I am grateful, truly."

* * *

"Oniichan! You're home!"

"Hey, Yuzu… C'mere, will you? And Karin too."

"What's up, Shi-nii?" Karin asks curiously as she comes into the kitchen to join Yuzu who is already there.

"Got you two some stuff," he explains shortly, setting a bag on the kitchen table. It held all the things he bought with the Red Hawks' cash. Almost poetic justice, in Shiro's opinion.

"Really?! Ah, Oniichan, you're the best!"

"Calm down, Yuzu. It's nothing that special. Here." He hands Yuzu a lion stuffed animal. The idea occurred to him when he noticed an identical one on the side of the street. When he reached the store, he was lucky enough to find one brand new. "And you, Karin. Try not to pop this one too soon, 'kay? I'm generous, but not exactly made of money."

"Oh wow, Shi-nii…" Karin says with wonder, appreciation in her tone as she regards the well-made soccer ball. She doesn't question where he got the money, knowing Shiro will claim from various odd jobs around town. This isn't the first time he's brought home gifts out of the blue. The twelve year old continues to accept the explanation without a fuss. Karin is not naive like her sister. However, she came to the stark realization ages ago that ignorance is bliss.

Yuzu for her part squeals in delight and twirls around, holding the stuffed animal high in the air.

"I love it, I love it, I love it-" She goes on in this manner for quite awhile.

"One more thing," Shiro speaks up casually after they'd both admired their gifts.

"There's a ghost staying with us for awhile. I'm giving her my permission. Her name is Saya, and she's about both of your ages. Saya, you can come out." She does, smiling warmly at the twin Kurosaki girls. Karin regards the ghost for a moment, then merely shrugs in acceptance and goes back to admiring her new soccer ball. Yuzu on the other hand smiles brightly… at the empty spot next to Saya.

"It's so wonderful to meet you, Saya! I hope we can become good friends in the time you stay in the Kurosaki household." Yuzu bows cordially.

"I hope so too! Thank you!" Shiro conveys as much for Saya when Yuzu continues to smile sweetly at the spot next to the ghost girl.

"Shiiiiiiiroooooo-!" With hardly any effort but much irritation, Shiro dodges his father's flying kick. Shiro turns to smile malevolently down at his father, pulling off his sunglasses for added effect. His red pupils become immediately apparent, making Shiro downright frightening… At least, to most people.

"One of these days, old man…" Shiro purrs, tone laced with underlying threat. _If I kill anyone in my lifetime, it'll probably be him…_ Shiro thinks before forcing himself to go through the mantra he always mentally repeats when the crazy geezer does something to piss Shiro off. _I need him to pay the bills. I need him to pay the bills. I need him to pay the bills…_

Unfortunately, distracted with keeping murderous impulses under control as he is, Shiro misses his chance to stop Isshin from digging into what else is in the shopping bag. "Shiiirooo, you naughty boy! You aren't old enough to smoke yet, and it's bad for your health!" He says while shaking a pack of cigarettes at his son.

"So then why do you do it, if it's so bad for your health…?" Karin asks dryly, glancing at her eccentric father.

"Karin, my loving daughter!" Isshin wails dramatically. "You know very well that I only do it once a year."

Without warning, Shiro swiftly knocks the pack out of Isshin's hand before kicking him brutally in the gut. Isshin goes flying into the wall behind him, denting the wall some. Isshin twitches sporadically. "So fast… My son has become so fast…." Right afterwards, his eyes brim with tears and he springs from his position against the wall, practically flying to the poster of Masaki Kurosaki. "But why doesn't he listen to his daddy anymore? Masaki, love! Why can't our son see that I am only looking after his health?" Isshin sobs pitifully. Shiro cruely shoves his sire's head against the floor with one foot.

"I've had an annoying day already, old man. You really would be smart not to tick me off anymore…" Shiro remarks lightly, as though commenting on the weather. He removes his foot and walks away, leaving Isshin sniffling next to the poster of his dead wife. Shiro is sure to snatch up the bag of cigarette packs as he goes. "Heading upstairs."

"But Oniichan! What about dinner?" Yuzu asks, distressed.

"Lost my appetite, although thanks for asking." Shiro hardly bothers with manners with anyone, although when it comes to Yuzu, he makes an exception.

"Finally…" Shiro mutters when he arrives at his bedroom. He closes the door behind him, though doesn't turn on the light. He hardly ever does unless he must for some reason. Usually the light from his window is enough, even when there is only moonlight like now; not to mention it's easier on his very sensitive eyes. Shiro grins as he slides his window open and lights a cigarette. Ever since he won the national championship in mixed martial arts, there remains few things he still enjoys. Smoking is one of them. It relaxes him- a near impossible task all other times.

He blows smoke out slowly, watching silently as it twists and floats out of sight. He sits on his bed, leaning his head halfway out the window as he smokes. No need for his room to smell like cigarette smoke, after all… Another huff. _The sight of the rising smoke is almost haunting in this light…_ Shiro muses. He closes his harsh red eyes, leaning against the window sill. _… What now?_ His time with the Red Hawks is over. He decimated the powerhouse of the gang in one fell swoop. Even if they do recover from it, he very much doubts they'll try coming after him again. They put on a tough act, but he's been on the inside. He knows now just how cowardly they can be.

Shiro doesn't want to go back to the mind-numbing boredom he knows so well. He's convinced that he can actually die from living such a miserable, pointless life- if he doesn't go insane first. _At the same time, there is no way in hell I'll join another gang. It was interesting at first, but it soon turned out to be a disaster. Probably the worst mistake I've ever made… So what then? What is there to strive for? It's all… just so… Pointless._

* * *

A light ringing, like the tinkling of bells, or the rustling of gentle wind chimes. Strangely enough, it comes from a black butterfly that flutters in through a solid wall. The sound of it's flight reaches Shiro's foggy mind, drowsy as he is. His cigarette has long since burned out and fallen from his hand, which hangs halfway outside. He had fallen asleep against the windowsill.

"... Odd." The word does not come from Shiro's mouth. Instead, it comes from the mouth of a petite, short woman, no taller than five feet that has also passed through solid wall. She looks to be a teenager, but the way she carries herself is akin to a noble and proud warrior. She stands in Shiro's room, looking carefully around with dark, narrowed eyes. "That heavy reiatsu is definitely originating from here, yet there is nothing of note besides a sleeping human boy…" she continues, oblivious that her mutterings is rousing said human boy.

Once realizing there is an intruder in his room that is definitely not anyone he knows, nor an average spirit, Shiro relaxes his body and pretends to sleep. While doing so he watches the girl with barely open eyes, taking in her appearance from what he can see. _Black garb… Sword… This has to be another of those strange spirits, like the one Saya told me about earlier. Heh._ Shiro is content to watch the spirit, who continues to search the room, unaware of Shiro's attention, and he has to admit, this spirit is beautiful.

For the next few minutes, Shiro watches as the spirit flails around, making a mess of his room for no apparent reason. Gradually, his irritation mounts. _… Screw this._ He stands silently from his bed. "Oi. You have some explaining to do. Just what do you think you're doing here, huh?"

The girl whirls around, regarding Shiro with evident shock and disbelief. "Did you just… speak to me?" she breathes, mouth agape.

Shiro blinks, abruptly taking on an innocent persona. "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm talking to my imaginary friend standing right where you are..."

The girl relaxes. "Oh, good. For a moment there I thought the human noticed… me…" She freezes, stock still. She returns her gaze to Shiro, who at this point has arched an eyebrow in blatant amusement.

Stare….

Stare...

Stare…

Stare…

The raven haired woman yelps in an undignified manner and scrambles backward. "You _were_ talking to me!" She accuses, pointing a shaking finger at Shiro.

He raises a hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure I was speaking to the _other_ person who decided to barge into my room late at night and shuffle through my things like she owns the place..." He smacks his right fist lightly into the palm of his opposite hand. "Darn." His voice oozes sarcasm, red eyes alight with a predatory gleam that the girl finds both unnerving and unnatural. She opens and closes her mouth, looking for all intents and purposes like a fish out of water. She has no idea what to do. Never once has it come to mind that a _human_ would ever notice her, much less confront her.

As it turns out, she needn't say a word. At that moment a roar seems to shake the very foundations of the Kurosaki clinic. The floor trembles and vibrates. A childish scream radiates through the air. In an instant, the woman's whole demeanor changes. Once again she is the unshakable, noble warrior. "A hollow!" she hisses to herself, hopping out of the second story window. Shiro runs to the window, looking outside. Down below, he notices Saya and Karin.

"Karin! What's happening?" Yuzu must also be down there, as Shiro instantly recognizes her voice.

"Yuzu, run away! There's a- a _monster_ and the ghost girl is in danger! Hey, move! Do you hear me? You need to move!" But Saya stays frozen in terror, staring in horror at the monster as tall as the Kurosaki clinic. _Well, that's something I've never seen before!_ Shiro thinks, light-headed and adrenaline pumping through his system.

"A monster?! Wait, Karin!" Karin runs forward to urge the ghost girl away. _Shit,_ Shiro thinks, and without a moment of hesitation proceeds to jump out of the window. He bends his knees, rolling to relieve pressure when he hits the ground, as he has learned. When he looks up it's to see a surprising sight. That little pipsqueak who invaded his bedroom is _holding the gigantic monster at bay with a mere katana._ The same moment Shiro stands straight, another monster appears on the opposite direction. This one is somewhat shorter than the first, but no less dangerous. It licks its lips (or mask?) eagerly.

"Heh heh… What luck! I won't go hungry tonight…"

_So it can talk…_ Shiro remarks internally as he runs forward, driven by pure instinct. On the way he yanks out the "Kurosaki Clinic" wooden sign from the front yard and holds it as a makeshift weapon, although he doesn't suppose it'll be much help in the end. "Whatcha waiting for? Both of you, get out of here. Go with Yuzu and run far away from here." Despite the absurd danger of the situation, Shiro finds himself unafraid. In fact, he's grinning madly at the masked, monstrous beast towering above him.

"Shi-nii…" Karin whispers brokenly, but nonetheless obeys her big brother and urges Saya to move again. They barely make it a few steps before the beast lunges.

At the same time, the sword-wielding woman fighting the other beast yells out. "You fool! Get back!" Shiro doesn't heed the order. Instead, he pulls back his makeshift weapon and prepares to stick it in the open maw of the beast, intending to ward its teeth away. Right when the hollows is about to be upon Shiro, the woman behind finishes off the other monster and throws herself in front of the human. There is a splattering of blood. The woman's sacrifice has saved Shiro, and given the three young girls time enough to leave the immediate area. The katana begins to slip from a slim, dainty hand. Before it can fall, a larger, paler hand wraps around the hilt. Shiro picks up the sword and slashes at the mask of the monster still gripping his savior's body in its maw. The monster disintegrates with a death cry, blue particles floating away in the wind.

"A weakness…" Shiro says, smiling tightly and covered in the blood of his unlikely savior. A howl comes from somewhere up ahead, hidden by the nightly gloom. "Another, then? Bring it on." Shiro is convinced the mask is the monster's weakness and the katana in hand is special. _As long as I have this weapon, I can win. If the pipsqueak fought off the other one by herself, I definitely can do the same… Although… That might be a bit of a challenge._ Three more monsters have stepped out of the gloom, visible now some ways down the currently (and fortunately) deserted street.

"Human…" Shiro looks down, surprised.

"So you survived, huh? Not bad…. You're pretty tough." Shiro compliments easily, grinning down at the severely injured woman. She stares back up at him, at a loss. _This human…_ She thinks. _Picked up my zanpakuto and slew the hollow. He stands here, grinning of all things down at me and fear entirely absent…_

"Human… Do you want to save the girls from earlier?" The woman knows all too well that if they die, no matter how fast the young girls run, the monsters will devour them soon after. "Do you desire to live?"

For a brief moment, Shiro considers the question, tilting his head slightly to one side in thought. Then he begins laughing- at least, the woman believes that is what he is doing. It is a sort of chilling cackle that sends shivers up her spine. With the added effect of her blood painted over his pale, white form, the moonlight bathing him in an eery glow… Not to mention the blatant, bright red eyes... It is a striking sight indeed. It makes her doubt what she is considering. "Lady…" He breaths. "I don't just want to _live_. I want to _win_." He leers down at her. "I assume you have a plan?"

She nods, pushing her doubts to the side. _He risked his life for those girls, did he not? I must do this…_ "I do," she responds, somehow managing to imbue her voice with confidence and authority, despite the agony of her injuries. "Hand me my sword."

His smile dips, and Shiro snorts in disbelief. "Not a chance."

"You misunderstand. To win against so many, you need my power- the power of a shinigami…" _Death god…?_ Shiro wonders incredulously, yet still relents and offers back her blade wordlessly. She carefully points it toward his heart. "To transfer my powers, this blade must pierce your heart so I may pour my power directly to your soul… I will admit, the likelihood of you dying in the process is high…"

"Sounds like suicide…" Shiro chirps, sounding awfully cheerful. He glances thoughtfully at the monsters, whom by this point have covered three quarters of the previous distance separating them. They are taking their sweet time- believing they have easy prey. Shiro's near maniacal grin intensifies. "Though, considering there isn't much of an alternative, I suppose I'll just have to trust you." He grips the blade, avoiding the sharp edges with his hands and steadying its slight trembling. He looks down at the being who holds the hilt. A spark of something enters Shiro's eyes. "My name's Shiro Kurosaki, by the way…"

The woman draws in a shaky breath. "And I am… Rukia Kuchiki." They meet eachother's gaze, determination reflected in their eyes. "Stay strong and wield my power nobly, Shiro Kurosaki," Rukia Kuchiki says before together, they drive the zanpakuto into Shiro's heart. For him, there is pain… and then a seemingly endless churning of power. The hollows roar in shock, shielding their eyes when a sudden burst of red, blazing power erupts from the human.

"I bet… You assholes are thinking right about now… _Damn. Maybe I should have stayed at whatever hell-hole I call home tonight..._ " The smoke and debris the eruption kicked up clears, revealing Shiro in a black shihakusho and holding a gigantic blade over one shoulder. Rukia looks on in disbelief. _I've never seen a sealed zanpakuto that size before, and my power… I only meant to give him a portion, yet somehow he's obtained it all…._ Her shinigami garments have reverted to the pure white of a plus soul.

"And I have to say…" Shiro continues. He hefts his blade off his shoulders, his spiritual pressure rising and submersed in killing intent. With a sudden burst speed he appears in front of the closest hollow. _Shunpo?!_ Rukia yelps internally, finding it harder and harder to breathe. Shiro stands at eye level across from hollow, looking at it with a predatory gleam. He finishes, "You're right- you really should've." The hollow swings a clawed hand, but before it can meet its mark the hollow's mask is cleaved in half. Laughing maniacally, the newly dubbed substitute soul reaper goes on a destructive rampage. Power courses through his being like never before, and Shiro can't remember ever being so _happy_ or so _alive_ , ironically enough. "You can't get away! So why don'tcha just give up and _**DIE?!**_ _"_ he screeches tauntingly, giving chase to the remaining hollow attempting to flee.

Rukia worries that the boy is drunk on power, yet the end results of her decision cannot be disregarded. The hollows were slain (or soon to be) and they've all evaded a fate far worse than death, thanks to him- Shiro Kurosaki.


	2. Chapter 2

"Orihime-chaaaaan! You look positively adorable today!"

"Ch-chizuru, please let go! Class is about to start..." Orihime whines, struggling to get out of the lesbian's tight hold. Tatsuki, Orihime's usual protector, is nowhere to be seen. Probably already in class, if Shiro has to guess. Unlike Shiro, Tatsuki actually cares if she arrives on time.

"So studious, Orihime-chan! That makes you all the cu- waaah!" Without any fanfare, Shiro grabs the back of Chizuru's shirt and flings her against the hallway wall. Glasses skewed, the perverted redhead slides down into a dazed heap on the floor.

Despite the fact Chizuru was shamelessly molesting her a mere moment before, Orihime yelps in concern and attempts to go to the fallen girl's side. This annoys Shiro all the more. He snatches hold of her wrist and whirls her around to face him. "Yo. Bitch."

Orihime winces at the vulgarity. "G-good morning, Kurosaki-san…"

Shiro snorts, having expected this reaction but having hoped for a (finally) more violent one. "Doesn't seem like it," he points out wryly, in reference to what just occurred to her. Still holding the girl's wrist, he raises her hand higher. "Next time that happens, just slap her. You can do that much, can't you?"

"U-um, well…." Orihime grows increasingly nervous and is unable to meet his gaze.

"Tch. I'm so _sick_ of having to deal with this shit, you know that, Inoue?"

"I'm sorry!" The girl bows in apology, near tears.

"Shut _up_ , Inoue." She does, much to Shiro's relief. He lets go of her wrist. She sighs in relief and turns to leave. "I'm not done talking to you." The girl obediently stops and turns around. Chizuru meanwhile crawls away as quietly as she can. Shiro ignores her, focusing on Orihime. He realizes that if this ever gets back to Tatsuki, she'll hate him for it, but what he said is true. He's _sick_ of this routine. He protects Orihime because he knows how important she is to his best friend, but all of this coddling is going nowhere. In fact, it may even be making the girl weaker, if that's at all possible.

Shiro sighs, running a hand through his short hair in an irritated manner. "You don't want to be a burden, do you?" She shakes her head adamantly 'no'. "Well, at this rate, that is all you are ever gonna be. A whining, bumbling, completely _pathetic_ burden." Orihime trembles, lowering her head in shame. A single tear slides down her cheek. Shiro studies her closely with narrowed eyes. When no other reaction is forthcoming, he continues. "Can't even work up the courage for one little slap, not even to protect yourself or spare your friend the constant burden of policing ya. Pathetic." He shakes his head in exaggerated, mock disappointment. "Why Sora wasted so much time and energy on ya, I'll never know. If he'd just left you somewhere like yer parents did, he probably wouldn't have been exhausted all the time and would still be alive. Ah, well. No point in crying over a weak idiot who couldn't even understand that much-"

There is a sharp stinging across Shiro's cheek. A sense of satisfaction rises up in the albino. He grins unabashedly down at Orihime, who is trembling in rage and glaring at him through hot tears. Her hand is still raised and she stares at it now incomprehensibly. Gray eyes widen in realization of what she just did. "I'm- I'm s-" Shiro stops her before she can finish the apology, gripping her tightly by the wrist once more.

"No. Hold on to it. Hold on to that fire." He orders eagerly, pulling her closer and leaning down. She stiffens, nose to nose with the intimidating boy. "Remember it, and every time someone tries to cross the line, fan that flame until it _burns_. Do that, and you'll never be a burden again. I guarantee it." With one last sly glance, Shiro releases her and strolls away just as the bell rings. Orihime watches him go in stunned silence before rushing to the girl's restroom, completely ignoring the morning bell. All that matters to her right now is drying her eyes and sorting through her chaotic mess of emotions.

* * *

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun! It's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Rukia Kuchiki, a transfer student, like the teacher said. It seems we will be sitting next to each other from now on. I hope we can be good friends!" The black haired midget positively _beams_ at him while holding out her hand, as if to shake his like a westerner would. On her hand is scrawled a few words in messy black ink- _make a scene and you die._

A hush falls over the classroom to watch the strange scene. Shiro deadpans. "Nice to meet ya, Kuchiki-chan. And yeah, we can be friends." He takes the offered hand and shakes it vigorously. Rukia's whole body shakes with the motion and although it's not immediately obvious, she is desperate to wrench her hand free from his tight, eager grasp. Finally he let's go and grins cheerily down at her.

She shivers, completely taken aback, but replies in a forced happy tone all the same. "Great!" She inches over to her desk, her joyful laughter strained.

Whispers break out around the classroom.

" _Did that_ really _just happen?"_

" _Why's a pretty girl like her trying to be friends with a crazy guy like that?"_

" _I think it's kinda kinky. She's into bad boys. I would be too, if I had the bravery to say more than two words to Kurosaki-kun."_

" _Kurosaki-san is so scary! I think I'd just_ die _if he tried to shake my hand like that!"_

" _Poor girl- she must be traumatized. Should have realized from Kurosaki's appearance alone that he's no good…"_

Shiro flexes his shoulders, letting the gossip play out without a second thought. He couldn't care less what _they_ think. Rukia's reaction though? And Tatsuki's wide eyed, open mouth response? _Priceless._ He keeps an eye on the ridiculously undercover shinigami as he retrieves his lunch from his desk. It came as a shock to Shiro early this morning when he has discovered that his family's memories had been erased. They all claimed that the giant hole in the wall was done by a truck, which was complete BS. There were no tracks, skid marks… Heck, the grass wasn't even flat and the plants near the broken wall were entirely healthy, not to mention the hole was not even truck-shaped.

Just the same though, Yuzu believes the story wholeheartedly. This disappointed her brother, who was hoping his entire family would be capable of overcoming the strange, voodoo brainwashing. His old man _seemed_ convinced, but Shiro saw through the facade. He's seen enough of his father's intelligent, serious side during clinic emergencies, to realize that Isshin couldn't possibly believe the story he's spouting for a second. Karin, for her part, couldn't care less. She knows it isn't natural, but doesn't want to think too deeply on it, adamant on her disbelief of the paranormal as she is.

"What the hell was _that_ about?" It's Tatsuki, hands firmly on hips, and a nervous Orihime a few paces behind.

Shiro graces his best friend with an easy smirk. "Hell if I know. Pretty funny though, wasn't it?"

Tatsuki studies him warily for a moment, but relaxes her posture soon after. She smiles slightly. "Yeah, I guess it was. That girl sure is strange. I couldn't tell if she wanted to faint or rip your head clean off, with you shaking her hand like that."

Shiro merely shrugs and leads the group of three out of the classroom. Orihime trails behind, uncharacteristically quiet. Usually by this time she'd be ranting about the latest concoction she created for lunch. Although Shiro has never said so, it is one of the very few things he likes about the girl. That, and her tendency to spout the strangest conspiracy theories or fantasies, often dealing with aliens, robots, fairies and equally ridiculous things. She keeps school-life somewhat interesting in this way, if nothing else. Now though, not a word. Tatsuki shoots her worried looks all the way up to the rooftop.

Once there, Shiro spots three students already present. The albino gives a sharp whistle, startling them. "Scram," he orders shortly, glowering at them through his black sunglasses.

"Yes, Mr. Kurosaki-san, sir! Right away, Mr. Kurosaki-san sir!" chants two of them (Mizuiro and Keigo, Shiro thinks they're called) as they scramble to gather up their lunches and vacate the area.

One remains. Uryu Ishida. He sits in his corner with his small packed lunch and a sewing project in hand. He addresses Shiro with an unimpressed look. The delinquent scoffs at the pretty-boy's shameless pastime, but makes no comment on it, neither does he force the raven-haired boy to leave. The pair have a mutual respect in place, despite their shared disdain for each other. Not only is Uryu one of the few who has absolutely no fear of the albino, but he is the only one Shiro knows of (besides Karin) thatcan see spirits. The few attempts made to connect with Uryu over this shared ability however, were all meet with harsh rebuttal.

Deciding to ignore Uryu for the duration of lunch period, Shiro makes his way with Tatsuki and Orihime to the other side of the rooftop. They eat in silence. Tatsuki tries to get a conversation going by discussing the latest school project, but due to Shiro's complete disinterest in it and Orihime's uncharacteristic silence, she fails miserably. Shiro isn't worried though. He knows entertainment is soon to come, and sure enough Rukia Kuchiki appears before them a few minutes later, as if by magic. She smiles sickeningly sweet in her schoolgirl outfit, holding her lunch bag in an adorable fashion and fluttering her eyelashes at them.

"Hi there! Do you mind if I sit with you? I don't know anyone else and I'm so nervous on my first day…." she gives a melodramatic sigh and Shiro almost bursts out laughing at the terrible acting. Tatsuki stares blankly at her and Orihime can only seem to work up the energy for a faint smile.

It's Tatsuki who answers, in the end. "Sure, if you really want to…" Rukia happily plops down without a moment's hesitation, right next to Shiro. So close in fact, that she is undeniably in his personal space. Shiro, amused by the woman's antics, doesn't bother to move. His shoulder brushes against her's as he leans forward to retrieve his lunch, the leftovers from Yuzu's home cooked meal last night. As expected, it's delicious, and for a while Shiro is content. Like always though, that sense of contentment doesn't last for long. "So, Kuchiki-chan…" he smiles mischievously, a smile that grows at her all too cheerful response.

"Yes, Kurosaki-kun~"

"What school did you transfer from?" Much to Shiro's disappointment, Rukia doesn't become flustered at all. She answers without hesitation. Shiro has no idea if there is even a school out there with that name, but the confidence Rukia answers with seems to satisfy Tatsuki well enough. "And where is that located?" Again, Rukia answers without a moment's hesitation. This back and forth goes on for awhile, until Shiro can't help but pout, his fun ruined. There is an evil, triumphant glint in Rukia's dark eyes. Shiro finds it oddly attractive, but thinks no more of it, especially with what happens next.

Ironically enough, it is not Shiro but a damn _juicebox_ that succeeds in flustering the undercover Shinigami. Rukia stares at it incomprehensibly. Shiro watches her calmly, setting his chin on his hand. "Whatcha waiting for, Kuchiki-chan?" he questions in a purr.

Regaining herself, Rukia sets the juicebox down. "What do you mean?" she returns innocently while eating her main meal. Fortunately for Shiro, she can't put off the juicebox forever, and soon it must be addressed. Rukia unsuccessfully tries to give it Orihime, who gracefully refuses, insisting that she has some hot-sauce milk to drink already. Thoroughly put off, both by the refusal and the idea of hot-sauce milk, Rukia is at a loss.

"You _do_ know how to drink from a juicebox- right, Kuchiki-san?" Tatsuki inquires doubtfully.

"I don't think she does," Shiro concurs. Left with no other choice, Rukia humbly asks for help with the juicebox. Shiro complies gleefully. Her face reddens when she sees how truly simple it is, causing the other three students to laugh good-naturedly- and just like that the tension is broken.

* * *

"And so you, Kurosaki Shiro, must take over my duties as resident Shinigami until my powers are returned to me!" Rukia's dramatic announcement falls rather flat in face of what comes next.

"Sure."

"You cannot ref-... Huh?"

"I said sure. I'd love to. Why'd I turn down this once in an afterlife time opportunity anyways?"

"Oh, well… That's good..." Rukia trails off awkwardly, having not expected this response. Shiro is incredulous as to why. He thought he made it pretty obvious how much he loves fighting hollows the night he received his new powers.

"... was that all you wanted to talk about?" Shiro prods with a raised brow.

Rukia clears her throat, attempting to retain her dignity. "Yes. I'll be heading home then. I'll contact you if a hollow appears."

"Home. Where's that?" Shiro questions out of idle curiosity.

"Do you really care?" Rukia shoots back drly.

"Guess not," he admits with a shrug. "Later, Kuchiki-chan…"

* * *

"Shiro, a hollow!" Shiro stares blankly at the familiar raven-haired midget jumping out of his closet… and wearing his little sister's missing pajamas. "What are you just sitting there for?" Rukia snaps, yanking on a strange glove. "Let's go!" She leaps forward, as if to smack him with her gloved hand. Shiro easily dodges, leering down at the little stow-away.

He gives a slow whistle. "Wow, Kuchiki-chan. I didn't know ya could be so _forward_ ," he snidely remarks, red eyes flickering between her and his closet. "And here I thought you just wanted to be friends…"

Rukia is appalled. "Don't be ridiculous, fool. I needed somewhere to stay, somewhere private and close to you for emergencies. This is the logical conclusion."

Shiro nods sagely in agreement. "Of course… My closet could be considered private, and being so close to where I sleep I would be available for… emergencies."

"Exactly!" Rukia agrees, the innuendo flying right over her head. Shiro rolls his eyes, avoiding another attempt on Rukia's part to smack him with her strange glove. "Stay still!" she barks, frustrated.

"What are you trying to do exactly?" Shiro inquires dryly, bored.

"I'm trying to extract your soul from your body so we can go fight the hollow," is the terse answer. Shiro mulls over this, idly avoiding Rukia's attempts to get him all the while. His first and only time as a shinigami was a blur of bloodlust, pain and overwhelming excitement. He was under the impression that his body somehow transformed into that of a shinigami, but thinking back on it, it would make more sense that he astral projected.

"Fine," Shiro relents, hopping back on his bed. If he's going to leave his body to go fight monsters, the least he can do is leave it somewhere comfortable. Sure enough, a second later he is floating over his body, dressed in a black shihakusho and a large sword strapped to his back. Shiro offers a fierce grin to his new partner. "Let's go have some fun."

* * *

"Stop _toying_ with it, Shiro! Finish it off already," Rukia finally snaps, anxiety rising to an all time high. For the past several minutes, Shiro has been dancing around the hollow like a predator toying with it's prey. It is exceedingly dangerous for the untrained boy and goes against everything Rukia has been taught. Before they went into battle, she had informed Shiro the best way to defeat a hollow- which is a quick strike from behind to it's masked head… and yet, he has completely disregarded her words. _'But where's the fun in that?!'_ he had told her in a mocking, sugar sweet tone of voice.

Now, he says much the same. "Tch. You need to live a little, Kuchiki-chan~"

"Too late for that, and what I _need_ is for us not to get eaten," she snarks in return.

Shiro only laughs.


	3. Chapter 3

"Shiro, watch out!" Rukia cries out in alarm from behind her weakened Kido barrier. This hollow is especially strong, the strongest Shiro has ever fought before, despite it's rather ridiculous appearance. _It's like a deranged, overgrown porcupine from hell!_ Shiro hisses and snaps internally, struggling to keep the countless quill-projectiles away. It's night time, making it even harder to see the fast moving objects that could kill him in an instant.

"I'm watching out as best I can, Kuchiki-chan~" he replies, straining to keep up his usual flippant attitude. There's no way he's about to show that this _thing_ is giving him any real trouble. "You'll have to be more specific if you want me to watch out for anything in particular!"

"The old man! The attacks are getting closer to him and he refuses to move!"

Shiro doesn't think- he just reacts. Darting across the darkened landscape of the park, he is barely in time to stave off the attack on the defenseless human. He swats the quills away with his large sword, but one of them catches him on the arm. It doesn't impale his arm, but it takes off a lot of skin as it passes and leaves him rather heavily bleeding. _Shit! Shitshitshitshit!_ Shiro chants silently, stunned. None of the hollows he's fought thus far have ever managed to land even a scratch on him, much less a wound this bad.

Shiro sees red. Literally. His spiritual pressure expands dramatically in response to his distress, the trees shaking around him in consequence. Moving on instinct, he brings down his sword in an overhead strike. Throughout the entire fight Shiro has been unable to get close to the long-ranged fighter in order to land a hit. Now though, he needn't worry about that. A burst of red power springs from his sword and rushes through the air to the hollow, cutting it neatly in half. Shiro watches with vicious approval as it turns into a sort of spiritual dust. "Ha! Not so tough after all, are ya?" he brags cockily, wincing ever so slightly at his wound. Blood drips onto his sandals.

Shiro turns to look at the man he saved, only to be less than pleased. It's not some wizened elderly man, here to gaze in contemplation at the stars. Instead, it's a homeless, filthy guy who stinks beyond anything Shiro has ever smelled before. The man stumbles to his feet, smelling of beer and shaking in his torn boots at the seemingly meaningless destruction around him. He runs away without a word. Shiro watches him go, touching his own aching wound meanwhile … _and I got_ this _because of_ him _?_ Shiro ponders sourly. _Should've let him die…_

"Shiro, you moron! I've told you not to toy with hollows, and now look what happened! Someone almost died because of it!" Shiro opens his mouth to inform her that for once, he hadn't been playing around, but comes up short at what happens next. Rukia kicks him. Kicks him hard on the back of the head. Shiro stumbles, already dizzy from his blood loss.

Rukia is shouting something else. Shiro doesn't hear it. That wasn't some friendly tap on the back of the head. That wasn't a part of some sparring match, or even a fair fight. It wasn't something expected, like it had been when Shiro was trying to teach Inoue a lesson. Fury rises up in the albino. The only person to ever hit him like this is his father, so Shiro reacts accordingly. He unexpectedly grabs Rukia by the arm, twisting it behind her back and slamming her against a nearby tree.

"W-what?!" she yelps in confusion, too startled for the time being to fight back.

"If you were somebody else…" Shiro starts in a hiss, a menacing smile on his lips. "I would break your arm. All it would take is just a little twist…" He tightens his hold on her.

Rukia is about to do a Kido spell in retaliation, but stops short when she feels something warm drip down her back. A moment later she realizes what it is. _Blood! He's injured?_ From the amount of it going down her back, it must be true. "Shiro…" Rukia breaths in a whisper, disbelieving.

Shiro struggles with himself for a moment. Abruptly, he relents and releases her. "But you're not somebody else, are you, Kuchiki-chan~," he notes with an automatic smirk as she rubs her arm in shock. "Just don't do it again, 'kay?" he walks away without another word, gripping the side of his left arm tightly. Hopefully, it would heal on its own when he's in his human body…

* * *

Rukia has never seen Shiro without his unnerving grin until now. Even when injured so badly all those days ago, he was still smiling. To see it gone is a relief. It's also entirely confusing. "What do you mean 'no'?" Rukia questions incredulously. "You had no problem sending the little boy we found in the Mexican's parakeet to the Soul Society!" They stand off against each other just outside of the Kurosaki clinic, Shiro in his Shinigami form and Rukia in her gigai. Between them is the little ghost girl Saya, looking awfully anxious. Her severed chain dangles in front of her and her feet hovers a few inches off the ground. On her shoulders lay Shiro's stark white hands. It's one of the very few times he has ever shown her physical affection, and Saya is eternally grateful for it right now. Saya is not quite sure why the lady is so upset, as the girl is finding the conversation hard to follow. Something about burying her soul? The idea frightens Saya, but she will not cry. Shiro never cries, no matter what, so Saya won't either.

Shiro stares steadily back at Rukia, not moved by her outburst. "I didn't know that kid. This one though? She just so happens to be my little minion," he drawls, lazily patting Saya on the head.

Rukia seems to choke on thin air. "What are you saying? She doesn't belong to you, Shiro!" She exclaims, hoping that Shiro doesn't really believe what he is saying. To hold captive a deceased plus soul in the living world… It is one of the worst crimes one can commit. Could it be that Shiro is even more unhinged than what Rukia originally believed? The thought terrifies her. The boy is already too strong as it is. _Did I create a monster?_

Shiro gives her a 'well, duh' expression. "Calm down. All I'm saying is that I don't believe for a second the spill you gave that little boy. Soul Society is heaven? Yeah, right. You aren't exactly an angel, honey, so I doubt it's all rainbows, music and gold paved roads up there." He rolls his red eyes heavenwards. One of the many pluses of his Shinigami form- the light doesn't hurt his eyes. Good thing to, as his powers only came with the uniform and sword- no sunglasses.

Rukia appears personally offended for a long moment. It only lasts that moment though. She relents, shoulders sagging and looking so very weary. Shiro understands what's going on all too well. He hums thoughtfully. "That must weigh heavily on that pretty little head of yours, making such sweet promises, such sweet lies all the time…"

Rukia's hands form tight fists. Her form is tense, and she refuses to meet Shiro's gaze. "I have no choice," she reveals tersely.

"Why is that?" Shiro wonders out loud. "Are you ordered to say those things? Is any of it even true?"

"Well, no- and yes, a bit, that is to say- Gah!" she yanks a bit at her hair, frustrated. It's then that she notices little Yuzu peeking out of the front door, wide eyed. Rukia blushes, realizing she must appear positively insane to the younger girl, yanking at her hair and ranting at seemingly no one.

Shiro chuckles, grin back in place as he leads Saya towards his house. "Maybe this conversation should take place back in my room?" He suggests. Rukia nods numbly, taking out her memory replacer. Before she has a chance to use it though, Shiro snaps at her. "And don't you _dare_ use that amnesia-inducing voodoo on my family again. It's your fault for not paying attention to your surroundings." Rukia makes a face at Shiro, but nonetheless complies and walks away. She'll come around from the back and enter through the window. Then she'll give Shiro a piece of her mind for trying to order his betters around!

* * *

 

"-and on another matter, your swordplay is atrocious and your decision to play around with dangerous, soul consuming monsters even more so! Do you even comprehend the danger you are putting yourself and others in by doing so?! I should think so after what happened! It's terribly irresponsible, not to mention-"

 _Just let her get it out of her system…_ Shiro grumbles internally, back in his body as he listens to what Shiro has secretly dubbed as Rukia's 'bitching'. If Shiro is honest with himself, this is a huge improvement over the scared looks Rukia would throw over her shoulder at him far too often. It's worsened by far since the incident at the park. It's come to a point where it is seriously… Annoying. Yeah, let's go with that. Fortunately for both of them, there has been no physical contact between the two since then beyond when Rukia needs to help Shiro get out of his body.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

Shiro grunts, waving his hands. "More or less. I get the gist of it." Before Rukia can reply, he repeats what she has basically told him out loud. "You don't like how I ignore your advice. You think that because you're older and more experienced, you must know best. That includes sending all souls on to the afterlife, regardless of their attachments here, as they are no longer meant for the world of the living and will go insane given enough time. Is that 'bout right?" Shiro knows he probably shouldn't, yet he can't help the edge of sarcasm that enters his voice towards the end.

"Yes, you utter and complete-"

A quiet whimper cuts her short. The pair turns toward Saya, who they had all but forgotten in the midst of their… disagreement. Saya is trying to stay strong. It is obvious however that she is confused, and has never been more frightened for her future. She realizes now that heaven doesn't really exist and for some reason will not be able to stay with Shiro nor her parents.

Shiro offers the girl what is meant to be reassuring smirk, if such a thing even exists. He stands up from his spot at the edge of his bed and strides up next to the still fuming Rukia. Without any warning, he snakes an arm around Rukia's slim waist and lightly tugs her to his side. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Even if mommy and daddy fight sometimes, it doesn't mean we don't still love each other." Shiro winks at Saya, who smiles weakly in return. He tilts his head down to Rukia, eyes lit up in amusement. "Isn't that right, honey?" he inquires in a mockery of a loving husband, causing Saya to giggle slightly.

Rukia is horrified, and makes a small sound as if being strangled. Just the same, she resists the urge to smack him as she so desperately wants to. At her mortified expression, Shiro rolls his eyes and releases her. He takes one step away. "Che. Just trying to cheer the girl up, Kuchiki-chan. No need to get so worked up…"

Rukia huffs, doing her best to hide her embarrassment. Abruptly, her demeanour transforms to kind and comforting. In a soft voice, she says to the young spirit, "I'm sorry for scaring you, sweetheart. Why don't you go find Yuzu while the adults talk, ok? I promise nothing bad is going to happen to you." Saya nods mutely and floats away through the bedroom door. Rukia sighs after the ghost girl leaves, showing just how tired she is.

"Another promise, another lie…" Shiro scolds, wagging a finger at her.

"Shut up!" Rukia snaps suddenly, not in the mood. "The alternative is far worse. It's for best that she crosses over as soon as possible," the Shinigami then mumbles stubbornly.

Red eyes regard her coolly, and she shifts uneasily under his gaze. "Insanity doesn't happen overnight, ya know…" he mutters flatly. "You're afraid of something else, so spill." Rukia says nothing and merely stands there, tense. Shiro takes a threatening step forward, only pausing when it occurs to him… _She thinks I'm about to hit her._ For some reason, that makes Shiro angry, and he doesn't know why. It's not like he's given her reason to _not_ expect something so violent. His personality isn't exactly made of sugar, spice and everything nice- plus, she more than anyone has witnessed his ruthless side. Even Tatsuki has yet to see Shiro so blood lusted as he tends to be with hollows…

Scoffing, Shiro crosses his arms and looks away. "Whatever. Don't tell. Not gonna change the fact that Saya isn't going anywhere." Something in Shiro's chest tightens at the stunned countenance Rukia now possesses. She stares at him, as if expecting something _more_. Shiro only shoots her a levelled look and leaves the room after Saya.

* * *

"Gooood moooooorning Shiroooooo~!" It's a Thursday morning, and it starts off normal enough. Shiro flings his crazy father out the window. He eats breakfast with his little sisters' downstairs, thanks Yuzu for making it in the first place and brings some leftovers up to Rukia. He says goodbye to his sisters plus Saya, completely ignoring his overdramatic father, and meets Rukia outside. They walk together toward school in silence, only stopping once to take care of a weak hollow. Shiro spends a while teasing his prey as usual while Rukia sighs on the sidelines in despair, but such a weak hollow is hardly any fun for Shiro anyway. He finishes the so-called fight earlier than he usually would. When almost to Karakura High, Shiro pulls Rukia into a small cafe. The employee at the register looks disapprovingly at them, noting their high school attire and the time. He says nothing of it however, and for that they are grateful. Rukia tries to question Shiro's motives, only for Shiro to refuse to answer until they both sit down with the coffees he orders for them.

"We have a problem, Kuchiki-chan," Shiro announces casually, smiling easily and sitting on a backwards chair. One hand hangs off the backboard while the other holds onto his small coffee.

"Do we now?" Rukia murmurs quizzically. Unlike her companion, she is sitting as a proper young lady would- legs crossed, back straight and all, like some type of royal princess. The only sign of her distress is how she constantly turns her coffee cup in hand.

"Yep~. Here I've been, fighting your fights and doing your duty, when I don't even really know what your duty is! Admittedly, that's my fault; I haven't given much of a damn about it until now. Just the same, something's gotta change."

Rukia's trepidation mounts. "So what do you want to know?"

Shiro leans forward, tilting his chair in the process while Rukia forces herself to stay calm. "Everything. First, though, a simple true or false question… Are hollows in truth - oh, I dunno- human souls that have become corrupted from staying here too long?" He arches an eyebrow at her. Rukia's jaw drops.


	4. Chapter 4

It had become somewhat of a tradition between the two of them. Every morning for the next several days, Shiro would drag Rukia off to the same cafe. There they would take the small, two-person table in the far corner. Finally, over two cups of coffee, they would proceed to discuss anything and everything regarding the afterlife. Just as Shiro hoped, the irony of having a conversation about life and death over two steaming coffee cups has had an effect on Rukia. She began to relax considerably on day two. On day three, she even started bringing a notebook and markers to help her illustrate her points. Shiro, thinking this rather funny, would often comment on how 'cute' her drawings are. Encouraged and bashful, Rukia is now all too eager for their morning sessions.

"And this is Kenpachi Zaraki, Captain of the 11th Division." Shiro is not sure how he does it, but he does. He keeps a straight face while regarding Rukia's newest sketch. He even crosses one arm over his chest and taps his chin with his other hand, as if the picture has inspired deep thought in him. In truth, all he sees is a big bunny with a jagged sword. The bunny's ears are black with bells hanging off of them, and there seems to be a scar under one of its eyes. The bunny's teeth are bared in what Shiro suspects is supposed to be a fierce expression.

"He seems, eh… Tough," Shiro hazards to guess. Rukia nods adamantly, ecstatic that Shiro is able to pick up on even that much.

"Oh, yes! Captain Kenpachi's division focuses on Battle. They say his reiatsu is so monstrous that he can crush almost anyone just by standing next to them!"

Shiro's interest is peaked, although naturally he is doubtful of the validity of these claims. Nonetheless, he can't help but smirk in eager curiosity. "That right…?"

"Quite! And this is his lieutenant. You wouldn't think her to be a Shinigami, much less a lieutenant, yet in truth…" Over these last few days, Shiro has evidently learned many things. They've spoken of the Soul Society, Hueco Mundo and their correlation to the World of the Living when it comes to the balance. They've spoken of plus souls and how they may turn into Shinigami or hollows, given the right (or wrong) circumstances. Next was the Central 46 and Gotei 13 that oversees the balance. They've spoken at length on many of the captains, especially Captain Byakuya of the 6th division. Although Shiro loves their little chats, that is a conversation he hopes he never will have to repeat. _I swear, if I have to hear Rukia squeal 'Nii-sama!' one more time…_ Shiro had thought in agitation after leaving the cafe that day. He decided then and there that he hates the guy, Byakuya Kuchiki.

At one point, Shiro even manages to get Rukia to draw a rough map of the Seireitei for him. Of course, he has to have her rewrite it several times until he's satisfied. The first few attempts contained more random bunny drawings on them than landmarks and proper details. Finally, though, Shiro is satisfied, and every night since has taken it out of his nightstand drawer and carefully examines it. Suffice to say, Rukia's stories regarding the Soul Society fascinates Shiro in the same way a fairy tale would for a little kid, not that he would ever admit it on pain of death.

* * *

It is Thursday evening, a week exactly since Shiro's and Rukia's first informational meeting at the cafe. Now the last school bell of the day rings and students file into Karakura High's halls, eager to get going. Among them is the quartet consisting of Shiro, Tatsuki, Orihime and Rukia. The group has become rather tight knit, causing faculty and the student body alike to catch notice and raise eyebrows.

"I don't get it! How does a scary guy like him get all the cute girls?!" Keigo whines all too loudly from the side-lines as he and his friend Mizuru watch the group pass by. He falls to his knees dramatically. "Cruel world! What happened to the days when girls actually went for nice guys like us?"

"As long as he isn't with any sexy older women, I don't care," Mizuru states breezily, typing away on his cell phone as per usual.

Shiro quite suddenly aims a glare directly at Keigo, triggering the male to freeze mid-rant. Shiro smirks at him. The expression does nothing to ease Keigo's fear, which in fact skyrockets in response. "They aren't my 'cute girls'..." The albino drawls, setting his black sunglasses over his eyes in preparation for leaving the building. "They're my lady friends. Show some respect, will ya?" Keigo babbles something in apology as Shiro and his 'lady friends' leave.

"I wish you'd stop calling us that…" Rukia mutters under her breath. Rukia is obviously less than thrilled with the label that Shiro has given them as of late, feeling it still hinted at him being romantically involved with all three of them. Unfortunately for her, she has been unsuccessful in dissuading Shiro from using the term. She has yet to give up though, and now glances at the other two girls for support.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," Orihime hums in response as she fiddles with a strand of hair. She isn't nervous, so this opinion isn't stemming from Shiro's intimidating (in Orihime's case) presence. The orange-haired girl honestly believes this for some reason that Rukia can't fathom (having found the term of endearment mortifying). Rukia turns her gaze to Tatsuki.

Shrugging, the tomboy smirks. "I actually find it kinda funny. I never would've guessed you'd take my sarcastic comment the day you left the Red Hawks so seriously, Shiro."

Shiro chuckles lightly as they step out the front door of the high school, his book bag slung over one shoulder. "Anything for my dear first lady," he teases offhandedly. Tatsuki elbows him playfully.

"You're going to my tournament tomorrow, right?"

"Of course. Kuchiki-chan's coming too."

"I am?" Rukia inquires, befuddled and wondering what this tournament is for.

Shiro shoots her a warning look. "You are," he confirms.

Rukia smacks her right hand on top of her opened left palm, as if just remembering something. "I am!" Rukia exclaims with all the bubbly enthusiasm of her high school girl persona. Tatsuki smiles in amusement and is about to say something when Orihime runs slightly ahead of the small group.

"Yay~ Fresh air! It smells so nice, and I feel so light~" She does a twirl right in front of them, blocking their path. Rukia smiles at the scene while Tatsuki rolls her eyes fondly and Shiro patiently waits for Orihime to calm down. He's in a good mood today, and feels he can afford to wait. Finally Orihime comes to a halt, although now she's frowning. "But wait- that's not right. I really do feel lighter…. Let me see…" She quickly unzips and shuffles through her pink backpack's contents. "Oh no!" she yelps, flailing her arms some. "I left my history textbook inside! Be right back!" She makes a beeline for the high school entrance, kicking up a bit of dust in the process. Shiro watches in wry amusement of this and Tatsuki's long-suffering expression.

Their attitudes abruptly change however, when Chizuru pops up out of nowhere and ambushes Orihime on her way back inside. "Why that damn-" Tatsuki starts muttering, working herself into a frenzy as she rolls up her sleeves. She takes a single step toward the pair, only to be stopped by Shiro. "What-?"

"Hold on a moment, Tatsuki," he murmurs with a calculating expression, brows furrowed in thought. "Let's see what she does," is the suggestion while Rukia strides up to his side.

Tatsuki is aghast. "Are you crazy?" She briefly pauses. "You know what? Don't answer that. I'm going and you-"

Orihime's voice rises, snatching away Tatsuki's attention. "Chizuru-san, you need to stop."

"What? But whyyyy? Don't you like me?" Chizuru pouts, holding Orihime around the waist and now picking her up. Despite her innocent-sounding words, there is an obvious leer in Chizuru's eyes.

"Not like this. What you're doing is very inappropriate, and you need to stop," Orihime states firmly, and Tatsuki is so shocked by her friend's tone of voice that she actually slows to a stop herself. Chizuru, unfortunately, is not so hindered as she continues to babble nonsense in her usual perverted fashion. "P-please stop," Orihime tries again, growing increasingly nervous when Chizuru continues with her antics. It isn't long before the redhead crosses the line.

The sound of a harsh slap reverberates around the school courtyard.

Various after-school conversations patter off to an unexpected end. All the remaining students still in the vicinity turn to see what the commotion is about. There Orihime stands, trembling and with her hand still raised, much like she did with Shiro over a week ago. Chizuru has stumbled back a few paces, a red sweltering mark on her left cheek. She numbly raises a manicured hand to touch the sore spot, wincing slightly as she does. She moves her stunned gaze up to Orihime, as if to confirm that this ditzy, whiny girl had truly meant to hit her hard enough to bruise. When no apologies are immediately forthcoming, Chizuru realizes that yes, it was intentional.

Seeming in a daze, Chizuru wanders away. Slowly, the background murmur of various students' conversations return, although most with an entirely different topic than previously possessed. Orihime for her part, has stopped trembling. She picks up her backpack and slowly makes her way back to her friends, face downcast and shadowed.

Understanding floods to Tatsuki's mind, and she whirls to confront Shiro. "You knew this would happen," she accuses, shoving a finger in Shiro's face.

He wrinkles his nose in disapproval of the invasion of his personal space. Nonetheless, he responds in a flippant manner. "What'd'ya mean? I'm not psychic in that way."

"Don't bullshit me, Shiro," she hisses in a dangerous tone, taking a threatening step closer. "What did you do?" Shiro wears an unconcerned mask, although that cracks somewhat when Orihime of all people comes to his rescue.

"What are you mad at Kurosaki-kun for, Tatsuki?" she asks out loud, smiling brightly. This gives them all pause, Rukia and Tatsuki because she's smiling after what just happened and Shiro because this is the first Orihime's ever called him 'Kurosaki-kun'. When Tatsuki fails to instantly reply, Orihime continues on. "All he did was help me see that I could be stronger if I really wanted to. Now you don't have to worry about me so much, ne~?" Shiro isn't sure how, but somehow Orihime's smile becomes all the brighter.

Tatsuki is still at a loss for words, so Orihime gracefully changes the topic to allow her friend time to recover. "Well, let's go~!" She twirls and begins marching away from school. "My favorite show is on tonight, and I've got the greatest idea for a snack-"

"What about your history textbook, Orihime?" Tatsuki blurts out in question.

"Oh, I'm ahead in my reading anyways," Orihime lightly chimes, not even bothering to turn around. Her long hair sways behind her as she walks and there is a slight bounce to her step. Rukia and Shiro share a knowing glance before catching up to the girl, dragging along a gobsmacked Tatsuki behind them.

* * *

Later that evening Rukia hums to herself while browsing the selection of candies in the Urahara Shoten. Owner of said establishment is seated on a green mat not too far away, finger hovering over a calculator as he studies his most frequent customer as of late.

"Your mood seems to have significantly improved since the last time I saw you, Kuchiki-san~" Urahara notes casually, calculating gray eyes shaded by his striped bucket hat. Rukia shrugs nonchalantly, neither confirming nor denying. Just the same, Urahara knows his words to be true. The improvement of the girl's disposition is undeniable.

When Rukia chooses a chocolate bar, Urahara pulls his hat lower to hide his surprise. He hadn't thought the girl would actually choose something. The last thing he would expect from a Kuchiki noble is to indulge in any sort of earthly pleasures. Either the Kuchiki clan as a whole has changed greatly since Urahara was exiled (and this little fact has somehow escaped his notice), or Miss Rukia Kuchiki alone has been changed by her time in the World of the Living. Kisuke feels the answer is clear. Nothing in Soul Society escapes his notice, even when exiled to an entirely different dimension.

Rukia walks up to the shopkeeper with her treat. "This and my order, if you would please. I assume it is in by now?"

Urahara smiles pleasantly. "That it is, Kuchiki-san. Ururu, go get our customer her order please. It's in the back- the box labelled 'new goods'."

"Yes, sir…"

* * *

The next morning Rukia introduces Shiro to the artificial soul. "And you're sure this thing will act just like me?" he questions again, sounding unconvinced. He stares suspiciously at what appears to be a pez dispenser. He wants this to be true, since he understands just how dangerous it is to leave his body around when out fighting hollows. Nonetheless, he can't help his distrusting nature, and it doesn't help that Rukia won't tell him where exactly she's obtaining these supplies. All she ever answers with when asked is 'the Soul Society'.

Rukia allays his suspicions for the third time. "It's completely safe!" she says.

* * *

" _It's completely safe_ , you said!" Shiro mocks as they run after his wayward body. They have been doing just that, for most of the morning now. It is terribly embarrassing, especially since for some reason Rukia's memory replacer doesn't seem to work on Orihime nor Tatsuki. They saw his possessed body make a total fool of himself!

"That's what I was guaranteed!" Rukia defends herself.

"Who?! Who guaranteed you?" Shiro demands. "And no more of this Soul Society bullshit. I want the name of your contact!"

Rukia shoots Shiro a glare. Nonetheless, she feels it's a fair request considering what has happened. "Kisuke Urahara, owner of the Urahara Shoten."

Shiro, for once, is dumbfounded. "That rundown, dinky little candy store?!" Shiro has always thought the infamous little candy shop was host to something sinister. He's suspected everything from highly illegal, experimental drugs to child prostitution. Admittedly though, this particular scenario has never occurred to him. He resolves then and there to confront the owner. Not only does someone have to answer for what has happened, Shiro also wants to learn about the underbelly of the afterlife. _The Soul Society's black market… This should be interesting.  
_

* * *

By this time it's in the early evening. Finally, Shiro has cornered the runaway on top of an elementary school building... Only for Urahara Kisuke to intervene and pop the artificial soul right out of Shiro's human body. "What will you do with it?" Shiro scrutinizes the tiny pill the shopkeeper holds.

"Why, what is always done to defective merchandise- destroy it."

"Wait. Out of idle curiosity, that story he gave me about his origin… is it true?"

"Does it matter?"

Shiro shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a curious person."

Flipping open his paper fan, Urahara uses it to shade his face. "It's true," he admits. It seems there would be no holding back the punches, as he sounds entirely unrepentant.

There is a pregnant pause.

Shiro extends a hand with a leveled look. "Give it here," he orders, doing the 'gimme' gesture with the extended hand.

"Whatever for?" is the subtle challenge, his voice lilting.

"Does it matter?" Shiro mocks. "It's not your property," he goes on, blowing Urahara off without a care. "No one is asking for a refund, either."

"What can I say? I'm a curious person," Urahara mocks right back, not to be outdone. "Could it be that you feel sorry for this little thing?" Urahara then taunts in a guise of innocence, holding up the tiny green pill between two fingers. It is clear how incredibly easy it would be for him to smash it then and there.

"Maybe I find it amusin'."

"Oh? Do you usually curse so vulgarly at things you find amusing? I overheard some of what you said while chasing it down..."

Shiro's smile grows, eyes narrowing in a predatory gleam. He knows exactly what Urahara is trying to do. "It could be useful," he fires back mildly.

"You could trade it in for a less troublesome one, free of charge!" Urahara flutters his fan coyly. Shiro is grasping at straws now and he knows it.

"I'll have to talk to Kuchiki-chan first."

"Hmm..." He closes his fan with a snap and using it to tap his chin. His other hand slips into his pocket with the mod soul and his head tilts in thought. "I wouldn't have pegged you for someone who lets others make his decisions for him, Kurosaki-san."

Shiro clenches and unclenches his hands. "We've barely met. How've you had time to peg me as anything?" The interrogation is turned on its head as the younger becomes the aggressor. He leans forward, posture screaming dominance. "It almost sounds like you've been watching me…" The accusation hangs dangerously in the air, and it's obvious that Shiro thinks he has the upper hand from the lopsided smirk he wears.

Urahara lowers his fan altogether, abandoning its meager protection. A sound originates from the man's chest, starting off soft, only to quickly grow in volume and tempo. He is laughing heartily, countenance entirely patronizing. Shiro's blood runs cold. "Oh Kurosaki-kun, I'm _always_ watching." And with that cheerfully delivered warning, the blonde drops the modified soul onto Shiro's hand and disappears into thin air.

* * *

Shiro is in a bad mood by the time he and Rukia return home and the latter slips the pill into Yuzu's lion stuffed animal. After a bit of useless shenanigans, the modified soul proceeds to name itself Kai. "I couldn't care less what you call yourself. Just get out of my house."

"... w-what?" The self-proclaimed Kai stutters, taken aback. Isn't this the guy who saved him from being destroyed? That's what Kai was told.

"I said GET OUT!" Shiro motions swiftly to the door, as if he's cutting the air with his arm. Kai shrinks away in fright at the command and Shiro's consequent reiatsu rise.

"Shiro, calm down," Rukia soothes quietly, taking a step forward and laying a comforting hand on the albino's chest. When he doesn't immediately shake her off, Rukia takes this as a good sign. She tilts her head down toward Kai. "Kai, why don't you step outside and let me talk to him?" Rukia suggests, hand still on Shiro's chest. The boy is refusing to look at either of them. He stares out the window, glaring darkly at nothing. The expression is rather terrifying. Kai wastes no time stepping outside. Rukia returns her attention to Shiro. "Now, care to tell me what that was all about?" she prompts in a neutral tone that Shiro is thankful for.

"It's an annoying little shit. That's all the justification I need." Rukia crosses her arms in an unconvinced manner, leveling him with a cool gaze. "Tch." Shiro rolls his eyes at her silent insistence. "The thing is obviously perverted. There are four females staying in this house. Do I really need to do the math for you? I'm not suggesting a… refund or whatever. Just kick him out and buy another."

There's a few moments pause, during which Rukia studies his expression closely. Finally, she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with it instead. "I'm not made out of money, you know. Buying that one took up the last of my funds."

"I have yen you can use," he states flatly, apparently not taking 'no' for an answer.

"Shiro…" Her voice trails off at his red eyed glower. She sighs again. "Just give me a week to find somewhere else for him to stay, alright? Then, if you still feel the same way, you'll never have to see him again." She waits for his response in anticipation, giving him a pleading look. He stares at her for a full minute.

"...Fine," he finally relents. "One week."


	5. Chapter 5

It's morning and Shiro waits outside of the modest Dojo that Tatsuki trains so vigorously at. Since it's Saturday, he's out of that stuffy school uniform and is in clothes he's actually comfortable with. He has donned a pair of tight, dark blue jeans with a black belt and same colored boots. His white shirt's sleeves reach all the way to his elbows and it sports the logo of his favorite rock band. In his left hand he holds between two fingers a smoking cigarette.

Shuffling is heard from inside as a practice session comes to an end. Students file out, those who know Shiro either offer a nod of recognition or purposely avoid his eyes. Tatsuki is among the students that leave, and she confronts Shiro soon after. "You missed my tournament." Tatsuki takes to also leaning against the wall.

"I know." A breath is released, smoke drifting up into the air.

"You never miss one of my tournaments."

"I know that too."

"Kuchiki-san didn't make it either." Tatsuki peers at her friend from the corner of her dark eyes.

"..." He offers no response, merely bringing his nearly finished cigarette back to his mouth.

"You were acting weird yesterday morning." Tatsuki continues when he seems content with the silence that she can't stand. "You kissed me on the cheek and jumped out a window… a third story window…. And apparently you didn't die."

"Hmm..." He drops the cigarette bud, crushing it soundly under foot. "What do you want me to say?"

"How about the truth?" The contempt is palpable.

"Oh, good. For a moment there I thought you wanted an apology." Shiro makes a show of being relieved, wiping his forehead dramatically and everything. She scowls and makes a half-hearted swipe at him, which he is prepared for and carefully dances out of the way of.

"Get on with it," she orders in a clipped tone.

He shrugs. "I'm a substitute Shinigami." He announces without any fanfare. In fact, the tone he gives it in is rather bland and monotone. He might as well be saying that the sky is blue.

"... come again?" Shiro explains to the best of his ability, adding in a brief overview of the Kai fiasco somewhere in there. "And you honestly believe all of that?" Tatsuki shakes her head, blunt and disbelieving. "I don't know about all of this, Shiro. Spirits, yeah. Hollows, I guess so. Real Shinigami with their own society that sounds like it's stuck in the feudal era? Isn't heaven supposed to be more… mysterious? Forgiving? Heavenly?" The girl throws her hands up in the air.

"According to Kuchiki-chan… the answer to all is a resounding 'no'."

"Right. Kuchiki-chan." Tatsuki grimaced in distaste.

Shiro jerks back slightly. "I'm surprised at you, Tatsuki. I thought you liked Kuchiki-chan."

"I do- or I did. I thought something was strange about her and was okay with that, but this sounds like a load of-"

"I get the idea." Shiro assures, not wanting to hear her rant. Honestly, his best friend is too good at it and once you got her started, it is hard to get her to stop.

Tatsuki lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her short black hair. "Well, since you finally told me, even if it did take some prodding…" She flashes him a judging look and growls when he appears unforgiving. Truthfully though, she expected nothing else. "I suppose it's time for me to return the favor."

His eyes are hidden behind darkened lenses, yet this does nothing to conceal Shiro's sudden, piercing interest. "Go on..."

She smirks, knowing she has him hooked. "Not here. Come with me." Tatsuki turns her back on Shiro, annoying him to the point he is tempted not to follow. Tempted. Nothing more. He follows with a Shiro-typical 'Che'. She leads him toward her house.

A few minutes later and Shiro is staring unabashedly. "Huh. That's new." He gives an approving grin. "So how'd this happen?"

"It happened the day after Kuchiki-san arrived. I was having a girls' night over at Orihime's. I won't bore you with unnecessary details. More to the point, we were attacked. I can see from your expression that you've guessed what happened. Yeah, it was one of those monsters- those monsters you call hollows."

* * *

"Oh! Hello Kurosaki-kun~ What were you doing at Tatsuki's house? I was just looking at these… bushes. That's right! They're so… thorny…" Orihime patters off into nervous laughter.

"You were eavesdropping."

"I was eavesdropping," Orihime repeats seriously, clasping her hands in front of her and straightening her posture. Shiro studies her for a moment, then smirks. Orihime watches as he wanders away, giving a small wave in farewell as he goes.

"Later."

"Oh, okay! Bye-bye Kurosaki-kuuun!" She waves enthusiastically at him until he is out of sight.

"Orihime?" Tatsuki calls out from the front door of her small house. It is hardly bigger than Orihime's own apartment, since Tatsuki lives with only her mother.

"Ooh~ Tatsuki!" She skips up to her friend, who readily lets the orange-haired girl in after she slips off her shoes.

"You seem bubblier than usual, Orihime." Orihime makes a sound of agreement, smiling brightly.

"I think Kurosaki-kun is starting to like me!" The girl is positively giddy over the idea. Tatsuki, not so much.

"What makes you say that?" Of course, the tom boy has noticed much the same. She just wants to hear Orihime's reasoning behind it.

"Well, for one, he smiled at me!"

A black eyebrow arches. "A genuine smile?"

"A genuine Kurosaki-kun smile."

"Yeah? What's that like?"

"Kinda like this." Orihime slips her hands into her pockets, straightens her posture and tilts her head ever so slightly to one side. Her eyes are half-lidded and she smirks in a sly, all-knowing, yet approving sort of way. Tatsuki bites back her laughter.

"Kurosaki-kun smile. I gotta remember that." _That arrogant bastard._ Tatsuki adds mentally. "So why did he give you his smile?"

"I think it's because I admitted to eavesdropping after only one excuse and without apologizing like I normally would," Orihime chirps offhandedly and Tatsuki sweat-drops. The orange-haired girl pauses to take into account what she said before adding somewhat slowly, "I was about to apologize, but then I thought better of it. Kurosaki-kun wouldn't like it if I apologized without meaning it…" And truthfully, much of the time Orihime apologizes (which is several times a day), she doesn't mean it. Instead it's a sort of social reflex, born only out of the need to be polite and for the other not to be distressed.

"Yeah. That sounds about right for Shiro." Tatsuki grumbles, hunching forward and setting her elbows on her knees. She ruffles her short hair, preparing herself for what she has to say. "Orihime…"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me something, please?" Orihime blinked her wide, expressive eyes at Tatsuki, tilting her head toward her friend to show she is listening. "Shiro's my friend. No, more like a brother to me, but… He's not a good influence." Tatsuki admits with a sour look, shifting uncomfortably on the small couch the pair is situated at. "I don't want… Ah, gosh. I'm just gonna say it. I don't want him to corrupt you."

Orihime doesn't brush her off. In fact, she seems to take what Tatsuki has said into serious consideration, for which her friend is supremely grateful. Orihime folds one arm around her middle and cups her chin with her other hand. "Kurosaki-kun… wants me to get stronger, I know. I also know though that some things he considers strength... has nothing to do with being strong at all." Orihime smiles softly, allowing her arms to drop to her side as she focuses her full attention to Tatsuki. "I want to be stronger, Tatsuki. Mostly for you, but also for me too. Kurosaki-kun can help me do that. Just the same, I promise that no matter how I change, I will never stop being me, okay?"

* * *

"Weird. That's the third time today." Rukia mumbles to herself, tapping away at what appears to be a normal flip phone. Her brows are scrunched in concentration, her lips pursed. Shiro is hardly paying attention. He stands outside in his Shinigami form, arms crossed with a listless look on his face. He is going over what he just learned from Tatsuki- about her powers and what they might mean.

"Ya sure it's not broken?" he questions half-heartedly, not really caring, although he is slightly annoyed that the game is thinning out so quickly. He's sure he'll be more irritated about it later, when he's actually up for some fighting. Today's not one of those days though. The knowledge of Tatsuki's new powers and what tomorrow signifies weighs heavily on his mind.

"I'm sure." Rukia frowns down at the small screen. While the idea of someone else taking out hollows should be a good thing… She can't help feeling that this doesn't bode well for anyone.

* * *

Shiro falls into his single bed, tucking his hands behind his head. He watches from the corner of his eyes as Rukia straighten out the bedding in his closet. "Kuchiki-chan…" She pauses in her work and turns to show she's listening. "Do you mind if I take tomorrow off?"

"What? What for?" The word hostile best describes her. It's clear that she is offended by the very prospect of Shiro slacking off from his hollow-slaying duties, even for one day. Shiro understands that people's very souls rely on the substitute Shinigami for protection. Nevertheless, he can't help but feel annoyed. Why should he shoulder the burden of everyone's lives in this pathetic, middle-of-nowhere town? He's just in this business for the kicks.

So when he answers, he answers bluntly and without mercy. "My mom's death anniversary."

Rukia pales. "Oh. Ah. Of course. One day couldn't hurt, I suppose, especially when the hollows keep disappearing…"

"How ever so kind of you." Rukia wisely decides not to comment on the heavy sarcasm.

* * *

"Fuck off, Rukia. You said I could have the day off."

The astonishment is prevalent. Shiro has never talked to Rukia like this. In fact, he's never even called her Rukia. It's always 'Kuchiki-chan'. Then again, I am disturbing him on his mother's death anniversary… _He must have loved her very much. I've never seen him this rattled over anything before._ She takes a deep breath to gather her nerves. The small dirt pathway to the Karakura graveyard may be peaceful, even beautiful, but the scenery is completely at odds with the heavy tension in the air. "I did, but…"

"Spit it out."

"I have reason to believe your mother was killed by a hollow. If it sensed your immense spiritual pressure and your mother got in its way-"

"You're right. It was my fault."

Rukia looks pained. "I didn't mean-"

"Whether a hollow was involved or not doesn't matter. My mom's dead and it is my fault. Nothing is ever gained by playing the hero." Rukia isn't sure where that last sentence came from, it seeming random and out of place. More than likely, the sentence wasn't meant for her at all, but instead a reminder for himself. Shiro goes on. "Now that you've sated your morbid curiosity, get lost. I don't want you bothering my family or me for the rest of the day." Rukia humbly complies.

* * *

She doesn't get far. Rukia has yet to even leave the path before she is confronted by a Shinigami, sent out in search for her. Despite having always known that her crime would be discovered, she can feel a deathly cold travel from head to toes. Fear clenches at her heart, yet she keeps a level head and an even gaze. Fortunately, this Shinigami seems willing to help her, although the excuses he comes up with are not… well, excusable. Really, how do people keep reaching the conclusion that _she_ is in some type of affair with _Shiro_? Frustration mounting, she let's loose a weak, warning shokuhou at the annoying Shinigami. _I suppose I should just be thankful that Shiro is neither here nor in the mood to encourage this man's crazed suspicions..._

The second division Shinigami merely chuckles at the young noble's violent response. "Fun aside, I have to come up with something to say, you know…" Rukia is about to snap at him when they both feel a heavy spiritual pressure…. Dark, sadistic and decidedly hollow. _Shiro!_ Rukia thinks in fright, or maybe she doesn't really think. She turns on her heel and dashes toward the boy, unwittingly leading the Shinigami to witness Shiro's illegal Shinigami powers, to concerned with Shiro's life as she is.

Rukia is horrified to find the hollow is in fact the infamous Grand Fisher, a hollow that has managed to evade the Shinigami for decades. Shiro fights it to the best of his ability, pulling out all the stops, and yet still suffers immensely. He receives wound after wound, the worse being a large gash to his left shoulder. The shinigami that came to the World of the Living in search of Rukia tries to step in and lend assistance in the desperate and unequal fight.

"What are you _doing_?!" Shiro screeches, furious.

"My job," the shinigami bites back, incredulous. This boy doesn't really expect him to just stand there and watch, does he? Kuchiki Rukia may be out of her league at the moment, drained of nearly all power as she is, but not him.

"This is _my_ fight- stay out of it!"

"Not a chance, kid," is the offhanded response, the man not intimidated. He thought the kid was all bark and bite, especially since a Kuchiki is hanging around him. Kuchikis are renowned for their pride and wouldn't stand to be manhandled, after all…

Then Shiro takes a warning swipe at him with his sword and shatters that perception. "I said stay out my way!" The kid runs back into the fray, his anger and grief furthering his strength. Humans' reiatsus are known for increasing under distress, hence one of the reasons why transferring shinigami power to them is outlawed. Therefore, when the battle begins to turn around and he has the Grand Fisher on the defensive, it is not totally unexpected.

What is definitely unexpected however is for Shiro to attack when the last remnants of his dead mother are playing out in front of them. He never hears her final thoughts, previously held captive by Grand Fisher's lure. Instead, Shiro shoves his sword through the image of his beautiful mother and into the masked face of her murderer. Grand Fisher disintegrates in a howl of pain, rage and surprise... It's deathly silent. Shiro slowly limps away from the site, ignoring for the most part the gaping wound in his shoulder. He glances over his right shoulder at the two stunned Shinigami behind him.

"It was too good of a death for 'im. Too clean." Is all he says.

* * *

"My beautiful children!" Isshin wails while sliding up to the kitchen table on his knees. "There is a grave emergency!" Yuzu looks alarmed, midway in serving her family her home cooked breakfast the next morning and still dressed up in her little pink apron. Shiro ignores his father altogether as he sits at the table, sending Tatsuki a quick text on his phone. Karin merely arches a dark eyebrow at him before taking over for Yuzu in dishing out the breakfast food. Yuzu is the only one then to show any concern as she goes over to crouch down next to her dramatically weeping father.

"What's wrong, Otosan?" she questions, biting her lower lip in nervously. "Don't cry." She hugs him warmly.

"Oh Yuzu, my sweet child," he whimpers while sweeping her up into his arms. "I'm sorry to say that I lost the Kurosaki family charm!" He sniffs, peering up at the three of them. "Do any of you have any idea where it might be?"

Yuzu and Karin share a glance, before their gazes slowly turn toward Shiro. There around his neck is a silver chain, although the actual charm at this moment is under his shirt. Isshin's stare carefully follows that of his daughters' until he zeroes in on Shiro. His sobbing patters off until there's complete silence. He stands, gently setting Yuzu on her feet as he strides up to the listless Shiro. Without any forewarning, he yanks the necklace out from underneath Shiro's school uniform to reveal the missing charm. Red eyes flash in anger and one hand flashes out from underneath the table. It clamps tightly around Isshin's thick wrist, tight enough to bruise any lesser man. Shiro is about to bark something out at his nuisance of an old man, but the words never come. Isshin's expression is serious as he towers over the sitting Shiro, dark eyes boring into the younger man. Shiro can count on one hand how many times he's seen Isshin serious outside of clinical emergencies.

Karin, sensing the tension in the room skyrocket, carefully urges Yuzu to help gather some food for the two of them before sneaking upstairs. Shiro by this point is standing, frustrated that even so his father still towers above him. For a Japanese man, Isshin Kurosaki is tall and muscular. Shiro might grow to be like him some decades later, but at this point he is only a fifteen year old boy- not that this difference had ever given him a problem handling the troublesome man… Until now that is.

"Let go…" Shiro orders coldly, eyes narrowed to slits. Isshin is having none of that today, however, much to his son's surprise.

"This is very precious, son, and you took it from my room without asking."

"It's precious to all of us." Shiro shrugs. "Why should you alone have it?"

"If you wanted to borrow it…"

"No. I want to have it, and _you_ can borrow it if I give my permission."

Isshin's eye twitches, back as straight as a ruler and expression strained. "Such an arrogant and greedy little brat I have…" he mumbles lowly and Shiro tenses, half expecting a fight. Abruptly though, Isshin breaks out into his usual hysterics. He flings himself at the giant poster of Shiro's dead mother. "Oh Masaki, I've failed you! Our son has grown up to be a deranged and selfish hooligan! Whatever should I do?!" He sobs loudly, pressing the side of his face against the poster as his tears practically rains down. As expected though, the picture of the brown eyed beauty continues to smile cheerfully, offering neither solace nor advice to the distressed single father.

Shiro rolls his eyes, inching toward the stairwell and hoping to leave before Isshin feels the need to try and steal back the pendent. No such luck. Isshin skids in front of Shiro, blocking his escape. The teenager is nearly out of patience and very close to socking the obnoxious man in the jaw when his father speaks up, once again donning his serious persona. Stunned at having this happen twice in one day, Shiro holds back yet again and listens to what Isshin has to say.

"Tell you what, Shiro. I'll let you have it, on one condition."

Shiro scrutinizes his father closely, noting his stubbornly clenched jaw, firm stance and steel gaze. Far from intimidated, Shiro thinks, _Well, at least I know where I inherited my near bipolar disorder from._ Outloud, he brushes his old man off without a care. "Che. Screw that. It's _mine_ ; got it, old man?" Shiro taunts. Isshin has never controlled his son, and he is not about to start now if Shiro has any say in it.

His taunt doesn't pass by unanswered. Isshin's answer is an attempt to knock his disobedient son senseless with a well-placed kick to the gut. Having expected this, Shiro sidesteps it and brings up his right arm to when the sidekick transforms to a hook kick. Isshin, not hesitating for a second after his failed attempts to beat some obedience into his son, is on the offensive. Something is different about this brawl though, Shiro can feel it. Soon he realizes what it is as he gets close and personal to trade a flurry of blows with his usual opponent. His old man is still serious. In fact, he appears very determined to actually _win_ this fight. In place of his usual sadistic glee in "training" his son, is a tight line for a mouth and several creases on his forehead. Even his fighting style is different- less flamboyantly ridiculous and more practical.

The pair tumbles around the room, breaking the kitchen table in half during their struggle. The remainder of the Kurosaki household breakfast spills onto the ground, including a glass of orange juice that shatters. It's that insignificant little act that wins Isshin the fight. He is wrestling his son on the ground when Shiro accidently rolls onto the shattered remains. Shiro curses up a storm when he feels several small fragments of glass enter his right arm and shoulder. The albino would have come back even harder a couple of seconds later if given the chance. Isshin doesn't give him the chance. He rolls his son off the glass remains before pinning him roughly to the kitchen floor. One large forearm pins his son's hands behind his back while his right hand presses Shiro's face against the floor… But Shiro is not willing to admit defeat yet. Making an unearthly, low growl of embarrassment and defiance, he pulls out every trick he knows to buck Isshin off. One might have worked if Isshin hadn't squeezed Shiro's injured arm. Isshin grimaces at the dirty trick and pain he is causing his own flesh and blood, but keeps up the pressure nonetheless until Shiro relents, breathing hard.

"Damn old man. You've been holding out on me," Shiro mutters bitterly in grudging admiration, keeping still so he won't have to feel those sharp slivers dig further into his flesh. He's not upset about his father's dirty way of fighting though, having been known to use less than honorable techniques himself.

Isshin chuckles ruefully. "This old horse has a few more tricks in him yet," he informs wistfully.

Shiro just grunts. "So what do you want?" he grumbles impatiently. He wants to finish this little father-son chat before someone sees him in this compromising position against the floor… especially Karin, who has always looked more up to her big brother than her father, despite Shiro's own downfalls.

"Eh? Now my son wants to make a deal?"

"Yeah, so get to it," the teenager snaps, not in a mood for his father's bragging.

"Geez, don't get your panties in a twist, Shiro…"

"Shut up…"

"But I thought you wanted to make a deal?" When Shiro doesn't respond, Isshin sighs a bit and allows his son to sit up. He does. "Here's the deal. I'll let you keep the charm if you agree to go to a tutor."

"A tutor..." Shiro repeats blandly.

Isshin rolls his eyes some at his son's attitude. "Yeah, a tutor. Is it so hard to believe? You get good grades in the classes you are actually interested in, but many you don't even try. You'd be a smart kid if you just apply yourself- so says your teachers in their constant phone calls to me."

Shiro sits cross legged, holding his injured arm as blood seeps between his fingers. "Fine, I guess. I get the charm and you are free of my teachers' nagging."

Isshin makes a sound of frustrated annoyance. "They could nag me into they are blue in the face- if I didn't think they are right. Your mother would have wanted this." Shiro gives him a sharp, threatening look that he pointedly ignores. Bringing up Masaki is a low blow- and they both know it.

Nonetheless, it works. "... Who will my tutor be? How long will I have to go?"

Isshin shakes his head as he stands up, Shiro copying the latter movement. "Let me handle that- and as long as it takes to get your grades up. If they drop again though, you'll go straight back to your tutor."

"Whatever," is the disgruntled teenager typical response. Shiro turns his back and makes his way to the stairs when a large arm wraps around his middle and hosts him up. "Hell are ya doin'?" he hisses dangerously, not wanting anyone who may be eavesdropping to overhear. (His litter sister Yuzu comes to mind, who has a bad tendency to eavesdrop when she gets the chance.)

Isshin, for his part, is pleasantly surprised that his son doesn't immediately try to bite his head off for this little stunt- although the lack of aggressiveness may be attributed to his rather painful injury. "What? You think I'm going to let you take care of that on your own?" He nods to Shiro's injury. "You'll tear yourself up worse than you already are."

Shiro grits his teeth. Normally, what his father said would be true, if Rukia weren't around. He was planning on having her help him, making up some excuse about an accident meanwhile. He can't very well tell his father that he has his own personal nurse sleeping in his closet though, can he? "Whatever," the fifteen year old repeats reluctantly. "Jus' set me down, before I decide to kick yer knee in. I can walk on my own- it's my arm that's hurtin', not my legs." Isshin complies.

A few minutes later and they are in the clinical portion of the Kurosaki household/Clinic. Shiro sits grumpily on one of the patient's' bed while Isshin sterilizes some tweezers and cleans out Shiro's wound, or several small wounds to be exact. Unlike his usual exuberant self, Isshin is patient and meticulous. _The old man's been unlike himself a lot today,_ Shiro notes dryly to himself. Although, his current situation does remind both father and son of years ago, briefly after Masaki's death… That little nine year old boy that was Shiro started getting into more and more fights, and more and more would come home covered in various scrapes and bruises. Isshin yelled at him a lot at first, desperate to keep his son from harm. He couldn't lock Shiro up though- the boy had to go to school, it was the law, and Isshin didn't have the time or resources as a single father to homeschool the boy. He tried punishing and bribing the kid to stop anyway he could think. Nothing worked, and Shiro closed himself off from his father, resentful of the constant yelling and pathetic bargaining.

Finally, two years into the gruesome routine when Shiro was only eleven, the yelling stopped. Somehow, that was even worse, although Shiro never said so. Once or twice a week he would come home from school and make a beeline for his favorite hospital bed. He would sit there and wait patiently until his father came and treated him, the whole affair done in absolute silence… Much like what is happening now. _This is nostalgic,_ Shiro thinks dispassionately as he watches his father pluck the small shards out of his arm and apply antiseptic. The routine ended when Shiro was thirteen. He was strong enough to hold his own against his usual opponents by then, and whenever he did get hurt after that he would try to hide it and handle it on his own.

"There ya go, good as new- almost." Isshin snuggly wraps his son's arm up in pristine white bandages. "Your school uniform should cover it up, but if it doesn't you could always use it to impress the ladies. Introduce it as an epic battle scar. You had a fight with an orange juice glass and definitely didn't lose- eh, son?" The man-child suggests cheekily.

Shiro stares at him belatedly. "Shut up, Dad," he grumbles.

Isshin grins.

* * *

Shiro arrives at school late that day, his necklace and charm hanging over his drab uniform, damn the school rules on no jewelry. Fortunately for him, no one confronts him on it besides the usual disapproving looks he garners from the majority of his teachers. That's not to say though that his change in attire has escaped notice altogether- far from it in fact.

"Did you see that little cross charm that Kurosaki-kun has? I've never seen him wear it before. It looks really nice on him!"

"I saw it, and neither have I," Tatsuki admits quietly, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Isn't that a religious symbol from the West?" Orihime murmurs to herself in thought before her eyes light up in understanding. "Oh, I know~" She lightly claps her hand. "Kurosaki-kun converted to a new religion!"

Tatsuki chokes on her own spit. "I don't think that's what's happened, Orihime," she informs with a sweatdrop, chuckling awkwardly. "Shiro and religion just doesn't compute." _The idea is laughable, honestly._

"Maybe he just likes how it looks then?"

"Maybe- wait a moment…" she pauses, pursing her lips tightly and thinking hard. "I think I might- yeah, that's it, I remember now." She snaps her fingers, seeming pleased at having figured it out.

"What?" Orihime urges curiously.

"It used to belong to his mother, although I think she wore it as a bracelet."

"Oh! That's sweet, he must love his mother very much." She predicts sweetly, a dreamy expression on her face. Her memories of her own mother are not very fond ones, but she knows well enough what a mother is supposed to be like- loving, protective, guiding. "Is his mother really nice, then? I don't think I've ever heard of her before."

"Yeah, the best. And you wouldn't. She passed away when Shiro was only nine. He doesn't like to talk about it."

"That's really sad…" She frowns. "But he still has his father, right?"

Tatsuki nods her agreement. "Although most of the time, I'm pretty sure he wished he didn't," Tatsuki comments dryly and with absolutely no humor.

Orihime seems confused. Her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip trembles. "But why?" she whispers. What she wouldn't give for one of her own parents to still be with her...

Tatsuki ponders on how to best explain this in a way that is truthful yet not entirely insulting. "Kurosaki-san... Has never really been good with kids to be honest, Orihime- either entirely too indulgent or at a complete loss. It was pretty obvious to everyone that it was Masaki-san keeping them together, so when she died… Well, let's just say it changed everything for the Kurosaki family and leave it at that."

* * *

"Where did you get that?!" The confrontation is sudden. One moment Shiro is minding his own business on his way home- the next he has the point of a glowing blue arrow in his face, courtesy of one pissed off Uryu Ishida. His aim is shaky with rage. There is a wild look in his eyes that screams murder, and Shiro is only in human form with neither Rukia nor Kai around. Shiro takes it all in stride. He hums in thought, the sound seeming to further aggravate the already unhinged boy across from him. Uryu repeats his demand.

"Oh, this?" He mulls over what to do for a moment. In the end, he decides to tell the truth. "It was my mother's." The reply is simple. Shiro is curious to find out why the sight of his mother's cross elicits such alarm.

"Liar!" hisses Uryu, clenching his hands until his knuckles turn white. Shiro is puzzled and intrigued to see this cold hatred in the other's blue eyes blazing even brighter at the honest words.

"Where do you get off, accusing me of lying? Why would I lie?" Shiro keeps his calm. He would be more aggressive if an arrow didn't happen to be aimed between his eyes. As it is, it seems he would have to be the sane one here- a rare case for Shiro that he finds most amusing. He can't wait to tell Tatsuki all about this experience.

Uryu seethes silently. Minutes pass until without warning, he quickly reigns in his emotions. Soon all that remains is his usual cool deposition. He lowers his bow and arrow, allowing them to dissipate into the air. "I propose a challenge."

The boredom that had begun fester in Shiro at the several minutes wait, quickly bleeds out in face of this unexpected turn of events. He quirks a white eyebrow. "What kind of challenge?"


	6. Chapter 6

"A challenge of skill, wit and bravery..." Shiro repeats, clicking his tongue. "Kinda droll, ain't it? Not to mention vague," Shiro remarks lowly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He sets a hand on his hip, shifting his stance. "Fine. Let's say I was to accept this challenge. Then what would happen?"

"Obviously we would compete, and when I win I will have that cross."

Shiro's eyes flash in warning behind his glasses, the hand not on his hip twitching slightly. It is apparent that he wants to grab his charm in a protective response, and only just contains himself from doing so. "You arrogant bastard," he positively purrs. "And what happens if by some miracle that perfect being that is you loses?"

"As that's not going to happen, I don't really care. What do you want?"

Shiro grins, striding forward until he stands toe to toe with Uryu. To his credit, Uryu doesn't flinch, despite Shiro being ever so slightly taller. "I want you."

"..." They stare at each other in silence for a moment before Uryu bursts out in rage. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?!" He shrieks, aghast. Shiro takes a step back, bending over himself laughing.

"Oh, that was good…" he says after he's settled down, wiping away some tears from behind his sunglasses. One arm is swung around his middle. Apparently he laughed so hard that it hurt.

"Be serious," Uryu mutters, straightening his collar in a flustered manner.

"But I am."

"What?" Uryu says flatly.

Shiro shrugs. "I tried to be your… friend, Ishida. You didn't care to be, and that's fine. Things have changed though. You're not just some other guy who can see spirits anymore. You're a- what did you call yourself?"

Uryu straightens his posture, practically preening at this attention, at the recognition of his power. "A Quincy," he states.

"Aa, that. Honestly, you could be… useful."

Uryu narrows his eyes. "So what exactly are you saying? If you were to win, I'd have to- what? Be your… _friend_?" His upper lip curls, Uryu not even attempting to hide his disgust at the prospect.

Shiro bares his teeth in a lopsided grin. "Oh no, it's too late for that. I guess I should clarify, huh?" he remarks offhandedly, snickering somewhat at Uryu's expression.

"Please do," he says sourly, black eyebrows are furrowed slightly in increasing worry and lips pursed into a tight line.

"When I said I want you I don't mean anything sexual, so get that outta your head right now. I'd never make that type of deal," Uryu's face heats up and he sputters in protest how 'the thought never crossed my mind until you brought it up, imbecile!' Shiro waves Uryu's protests away as he goes on. "What I mean is that if I need someone with your kind of abilities to, say, take care of a pesky hollow that I can't be bothered with, then that's what you will do."

"That's… not so bad," Uryu concedes under his breath, tapping one finger on his pants leg in thought. Shiro notices a bracelet then dangling from the lanky boy's wrist, with much the same charm that Shiro has strung around his neck. It is also a cross- in fact, they may be identical.

_Is that why he wants mine? A matching set? There has to be more than that. He's too desperate for ka-san's charm. Is it possible that the charms have something to do with his powers? Will he become stronger if he has Ka-san's too?_ Shiro pushes the thought from his mind for now and smirks, obviously not done. Uryu pales at what else the mentally disturbed boy has planned. "And, say, if I need someone with maid abilities to clean up after I eat at school, that's also what you will do. By the way, this is only the tip of the iceberg, although I will say that it'll end at the end of highschool."

Shiro appears heavily amused when Uryu wastes no time before spitfiring denial after denial. "Indentured servitude? No. Absolutely not. There is no way in hell or high water I'm agreeing to _that_ ," Uryu proclaims with the utmost gusto.

"Why not?" Shiro inquires mildly, rocking back and forth on his heels in a bored fashion. "I particularly remember you saying that you don't care what I choose. Aren't you sure of your abilities? I thought you are supposed to be this all powerful _Quincy_." Shiro hits him right where it hurts- right in his Quincy pride. Uryu growls, conflicted, and it's then that Shiro knew he won. A smirk is plainly etched across his face by the time Uryu offers this snippy order.

"Meet me here same time tomorrow."

* * *

"Oh Kuchiki-chan~"

"Shiro…" Rukia returns, although much more reserved. Ever since Shiro purified the Grand Fisher he's been in a terrible mood, even more so after Rukia explained that he in fact _purified_ the Gran Fisher and did not kill him. He understands well enough the importance of the balancing the worlds, understands that the Plus soul that became the Grand Fisher wasn't at fault and deserved to move on. He understands all of this, and at the same time, Shiro just doesn't give a damn. The idea that his mother's murderer (in whatever incarnation) is somewhere in the Soul Society, possibly with a good new life, bothers him to no end. He explained it once as a constant bad taste in his mouth.

Rukia, unsure what to do, decided to give him some space… Yet here he is now with an entirely new deposition and seemingly no explanation. 'Unnerving' doesn't really cover it. Rukia squints her dark eyes at him. "Are you bipolar, Shiro?" she asks bluntly.

There is laughter at the question, the boy seeming pleased by it and not at all insulted. In actuality, Shiro is genuinely happy. Only a week ago and Rukia would have hesitated at asking something so bold. Despite being unnerved at this moment though, she doesn't have a moment's pause in asking. Shiro's laughter patters off into quiet snickers. "Maybe a bit," he admits with his not-so-reassuring cheshire grin. "Anyways, I'm not here to discuss my mental state, Kuchiki-chan~"

"What are you here to discuss?"

"Kido."

"Oh." Dark eyebrows shoot up in interest. This would be the first time they had discussed anything afterlife related (besides hollows in town) when not having their usual morning meeting in the nearby cafe… Not that Rukia is complaining. Kido has always been her favorite shinigami art, and she's been having fun playing teacher for Shiro. This in mind, she doesn't bother to ask why the sudden interest and instead says- "Well, let me go get my notebook-"

"Nope, not like that. I want to _learn_ Kido. In fact, I want to learn it so well that I'll have a few down pat before this time tomorrow…" He closes her gaping mouth with one finger. "You'll help me, won't you, Kuchiki-chan?"

"But that's impossible!" Rukia blurts out, shaking her head and taking a step back. "It took me a week at least to be fully competent in a few kido, and I am a natural!"

"Really? Well then, I guess that'll make ya the perfect teacher. If anyone can teach me kido in a day, it's gotta be you."

Rukia's eyes slowly widen, face reddening at the high compliment. "I know what you're doing…. I know what you've _been_ doing…" she mutters, not meeting the boy's gaze.

His grins grows, actually relieved that she noticed his subtle manipulation of her over the last week and doesn't appear mad in the least. "Yeah? Doesn't make what I say any less true."

Rukia huffs, but nonetheless is swayed to give it a go. _It couldn't hurt to try,_ she reasons. Straightening her posture, she sets her hands on her hips. "If I'm to be your teacher in this, you are to in turn treat me with the utmost respect during the lessons and actually listen to my advice- got it?"

"Yes, ma'am~" A sarcastic salute is offered, yet there is a honest eagerness in his demeanor that he doesn't bother to hide.

An eagerness that frankly, Rukia shares.

* * *

They decide to practice in one of the many abandoned warehouses on the edge of town. The powerless shinigami left and returned an hour or so later with several dummies. Highly anticipating learning honest-to-God magic, Shiro urges Rukia to jump right into the lesson, not even caring where she obtained those human-like dummies. The girl first insists on explaining the basics of kido, much to Shiro's disappointment who wanted to try it right off the bat. Nonetheless, Shiro upholds his side of the deal. As long as her lesson lasts, he would be respectful (more or less). First, she asks him what he believes Kido to be. When he basically describes it as magic, going even so far as to use the insulting word, Rukia all but has a fit, (much to Shiro's quiet amusement). Vivid red eyes, free from his glasses thanks to the dim lighting in the warehouse, are half-lidded as he watches her little spaz out.

After calming down and regaining the dignity of a proud Kuchiki, she precedes to wipe out her sketchbook and markers with the most serious and determined look on her face. They sit across from each other, Rukia on her knees and Shiro cross legged. The solemn teacher explains the differences between reishi (spiritual particles free in the air or making up inanimate objects), reiryoku (the spiritual particles that make up each spiritual being and are contained within) and reiatsu (the spiritual pressure that a spiritual entity excludes). Shiro knew a bit about reiatsu beforehand thanks to their talks regarding Kenpachi, though everything else is new to him.

Much to Rukia's delight, Shiro proves to be an excellent and attentive student that she only needs to explain things once to. She describes in some detail how Kido is basically Reiryoku manifested by sheer will and careful manipulation, most of the time with the assistance of special chants mainly given to them by Soul King himself.

"Magic," Shiro pips in assuredly.

She swats him lightly with her sketchbook. _"Kido_ ," she corrects, sniffing airly.

Shiro frowns slightly. "How do these incantations help anyway?" He whines slightly, not really wanting to memorize them. "I get that names and words have power, but they only have power 'cause of the agreed upon meaning behind them. I've heard these incantations of yours- they're just a bunch of strung together, random phrases."

Rukia is blown away by the, dare she admit it, insightful and valid reasoning. _Truly, this boy soaks up information like a sponge when he is actually interested._ Rukia mulls over this for a moment. _That, or I am just a great teacher…. Yes, I'm pretty sure that's it._ "I took a high-level class at the Shin'o Academy on this, actually," she admits to her student, "since Kido is my favorite shinigami art." She clears her throat before beginning her impromptu lecture. "Kido incantations, in their most basic form, are a kind of complicated poetry. There are rules involved such as you would find in a simple haiku, though of course much more complex. It requires both a sort of... melody you could say, as well as a set structure. A comparison could be to that of a common sentence… With a noun, verb, and so forth generally required."

A hand is waved dismissively. "Sure, but _why_?"

Rukia is flustered by the deceptively simple question. "Well, in my Theories of Kido Incantations course-"

"Theories," Shiro cuts in blandly, not impressed. "Meaning you don't know."

"The theories are very credible-"

"You don't know," Shiro states with an air of finality, rolling his shoulders.

Abruptly, Rukia transforms from flustered to furious. She jumps to her feet without intending to, pointing a finger confrontationally. "Now listen here you obnoxious little brat! There is very little in this universe of ours that can be considered _fact_. Heck, even you humans thought not too long ago that the World of the Living is _flat_ and everything revolves around _you_ , and wasn't that considered _fact_?" She taunts hotly. "We Shinigami realized that this was not so ages ago! And at least we have the decency to admit that we don't know the truth for sure in this instance of Kido Incantations!"

Slow clapping interrupts Rukia's huffing and puffing after her little rant. The girl is slightly startled by the sound, although soon following understands that the gesture is sincere. Shiro is smirking, as usual, but he's doing it in a way that clearly shows his approval. "Ya know what? You have a point there, Kuchiki-sama~"

Her chest puffs up in pride at the rare compliment from the often stubborn and haughty boy. "Yes, well-" she freezes, just processing the 'sama' bit. Shiro dissolves into a mess of shameless snickering.

"What's wrong, oh wise one?" His voice is lilting with glee.

"You're mocking me!" she accuses, disappointed despite herself. She had believed his earlier compliment sincere.

"Not at all. It was a good argument. I just thought you'd appreciate the respect, ne?" Rukia doesn't know what to say. She is used to being addressed as sama, yet for some reason the idea of him using the suffix is plain wrong, even in harmless teasing. She shakes the thought from her mind and continues on with the lesson.

The first kido Rukia tries to teach is Bakudo #1, Sai… Try being the key word.

"How, how…" Rukia mumbles to herself like a mad woman a half hour later, staring unabashedly at the scene in front of her. She wants to teach Bakudo to Shiro first, even if he would have been more suited for Hado. This is done in hopes that Shiro would learn control both with his reiatsu and fighting, which currently is a crude if somewhat ingenuitive berserker/ hack 'n slash style. Her Nii-sama would be beside himself at the blatant lack of sensible technique in display, Rukia is sure.

Obviously though, plans to change this are turning out… well, not as planned.

Shiro crosses his arms, smirking faintly. "I think I did pretty well," he comments offhandedly.

Rukia whirls toward him, dark eyes wide in blatant disbelieving. "How is _this_ pretty well?!" she shrieks, gesturing wildly to the horribly mutilated dummies. "Sai is supposed to only incapacitate the subject!"

Red eyes flicker briefly to the dummies. "Hm… I dunno; I still think I should get an A+. I mean, they look pretty incapacitated to me."

"That one's arms are broken, the one next to it has all the fingers on the left hand missing, and the third's right leg is entirely ripped off!"

"They're _really_ incapacitated," Shiro comments wisely, expression appearing devoid of any humor.

"Sai is not supposed to harm the subject!"

"Looks like I improved one of yer fancy lil spells, then," is the nonchalant reply. "You're welcome." Rukia throws her hands up in the air in a 'so done with this' fashion.

"Fine, that's it. You're learning Hado."

* * *

"Alright, I'm seriously about ta flip my shit if they don't _stahp_ that damn racket within the next few seconds!" The speaker seethes and rages, at the end of her patience, which in truth is about nonexistent to begin with.

"Hm. Our new neighbors _are_ pretty noisy, aren't they?" This one, a male, notes with a generally uncaring countenance.

"No-fucking-duh, baldy! Why don't you go over there and tell them to shut the hell up?!"

"What? Why me?"

"'Cause yer the only other person here and I damn well said so!" As soon is this is said, another explosion roars from next door, shaking the ground with its strength. They peak out their front door and watch blankly as much of the next door warehouse comes crashing down. "... On second thought, screw this! I'm gonna give them a piece o' my mind!"

"Wait- I don't think that's such a good idea. One of them feels like a-" but the man's companion ignores him.

Marching right up to the opposite warehouse (or what remains of it), she proceeds to kick down the barely standing front door. Shiro and Rukia turn to find a short, raging midget in a red sweat suit and with blonde big tails. Most predominantly though, she carries zanpakuto, which she waves threateningly at them. "What the _fuck_ is goin' on here?!"

The situation, as Shinji Hirako predicted, deteriorates quickly after this.

* * *

_**A few minutes before...** _

The Substitute Soul Reaper may have gotten 'Hado # 1 Sho' down pat, but anything stronger than that blows up in their faces. After the initial glee of learning his first spell wears off, and he has grown tired of creating craters in the warehouses concrete ground (much to Rukia's chagrin at the time, afraid of being overheard as she was), they decided to move on to Byakurai. After dozens of failed attempts, in which Shiro only managed light up his body with blue electricity and get his hair to stand on end, Rukia suggested that Shiro has a natural strong aversion to the element of lightning. It would make sense, she said, since Shiro obtained her powers which are based on ice.

Rukia's attempt to cheer him up lead to a disastrous outcome. Shiro got a crazed look in his eyes, remembering Rukia's favorite kido spell from their time hollow hunting- Sokatsui. "Ye Lord, Mask of flesh and bone, all creation…"

"Shiro, NO."

"Flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of man…"

"Don't you DARE."

"Truth and temperance upon this sinless wall of dreams…"

"I'm telling you, you're not ready!"

"Release, but slightly, the wrath of your claws!"

"FOOL, you're going to kill us both!"

"Hado # 33: Sokatsui!" This is what brings down the house- literally, not figuratively. The backlash is terrible. Rukia just manages to shield herself with a bakudo from the worst of it before her meager protection shatters. Yet, she is not out of danger. The warehouse is collapsing around her now and she is in the center of it, trapped in her gigai. She doubts she has enough energy anymore to conjure up a bakudo strong enough to defend herself, not after demonstrating various kido for hours and protecting herself from the backlash. Rukia grimaces. _This is going to hurt_ , she thinks bitterly as she curls up into a ball and covers her head, knowing the likelihood of her gigai being destroyed is high. The pain never comes though.

Shiro, although ticked off at his failed attempt, is not angry enough for it to cloud his mind. He knows Rukia is in danger, along with him, but he is hardly panicked. Strolling over to Rukia's curled up form, he waits patiently until the first piece of the roof is a few feet above them. Pointing a finger up, he chants _Sho_ several times until all the huge chunks are reduced to something much more manageable. Then, leaning over Rukia, he let's it fall. Since he is in shinigami form, the little projectiles hardly matter. Not a piece lands on Rukia.

The dust storm that's kicked up, however, is a different story altogether. They cough and hack, struggling to cover their own mouth and nose, but there seems to be no end to dust particles clouding the air. It is like a thick, gray smog. All at once though- the smog scatters under a loud bang and a wave of erratic spiritual power. "What the _fuck_ is goin' on here?!" Shiro wipes his eyes fiercely to see who is confronting them. When he does, he bursts out laughing.

"Oi! Stop laughing! I'm talkin' to you!"

"Do you really think you're intimidating or something? You're shorter than even my friend here, and ya look like an eleven year old. You have _pigtails_ for God's sake." He might have said more, but he breaks out into further snickering instead. It isn't everyday a four foot tall little girl kicks down your front door and starts cussing you out, after all.

Rukia for her part is not pleased by the reference to her height and briefly ponders stomping on Shiro's toes, but soon brushes that to the side in favor of something more urgent. "She can see us…" Rukia mutters in high suspicion. As usual though, Shiro doesn't share in her caution.

"You…" Shiro only laughs harder when the little girl takes off one of her sandals and throws it at him. When he somehow manages to dodge the fast moving projectile, she crosses her arms and positively _huffs_. "I don't like your attitude, _punk_." She juts her chin out at him.

"Don't know why. I'm just a slice of sunshine," is the sarcastic return. He cranes his neck some to see a new, tall figure stepping into view behind her. The newcomer is tall, thin and neatly trimmed. He wears dress pants, an orange shirt and a black tie with blonde hair to his chin as well as a cheshire grin. Shiro, somehow, instantly takes a liking to him.

"Geez, what happened here?" the guy mutters in wide eyed admiration of the mess. "You guys _do_ know that New Years isn't for quite awhile yet, right?" he asks them wryly, sliding a hand into his pocket and smirking widely. It would be an exact replica of the 'Kurosaki-kun' smile (as Orihime put it the day before) if the guy didn't slouch so much.

Shiro shrugs. "Yeah, we know."

"So why…?"

With a completely straight face and serious tone of voice, Shiro answers. "I'm a pyromaniac." He appears completely unrepentant of this statement.

The blonde openly gawks at him, then guffaws at Rukia's following, undignified squeak. "What's with the gothic get-up and giant-ass sword?" The man continues to prod, shaking in repressed laughter.

"Isn't it obvious?" Shiro makes a show of seeming offended and exasperated. "I'm a satanist," he juts his right thumb at his own chest. "-and this here is my virgin sacrifice." He waves a hand vaguely at Rukia, who is currently wearing one of Yuzu's light yellow sundresses. Her stature and dress furthers her innocent persona, and she really would look like the part... if she were actually frightened and not so obviously flustered and upset.

"Shiro!" she reprimands loudly.

"Kiddin', kiddin'... She just forgot her stuff at home. Really, she's a satanist too- the one who got me into this whole business actually! Girl after my own heart." He sets a hand dramatically to his heart, this dopey, lovestruck look on his face. Rukia facepalms, to incredulous at Shiro's antics to even be properly outraged right now. "We _do_ need a sacrifice or two though, so thanks for comin' by! Step right on in~ I'll have the pentagon up and in a bit, don't you worry, and then we can _really_ get this party started." This is followed by Shiro's trademark, insane cackling that could send shivers up almost anyone's spine. The echoing effect within the remains of this warehouse does wonders to make it sound just that much more intimidating. The rest of those presents appear properly freaked out by this- Rukia included, even though she has heard it plenty of times by now. Unlike Tatsuki, Rukia isn't sure if she can ever get used to that sound. The man isn't as expressive as the rest, but even he seems to give pause at it.

The little blonde girl on the other hand stands there, not exactly shaking in her one sandal, but appearing completely gobsmacked nonetheless. One of her eyes twitches. "What the fuck?" She manages, before finding her voice. "Enough with the bullshit!" Hiyori snaps, at the end of her almost nonexistent patience. "Don't play around- Yer _shinigami_. In my books, that's worse than satanists, or whatever crap you're spewin'." She growls, yes, _growls_.

Shiro is intrigued by this anger, as that makes two people in one day who hate him purely for being a shinigami. _Seems like Kuchiki-chan hasn't been completely honest with me~ I wonder just how many skeletons the shinigami are hidin'?_ As for Rukia, she is not to be pushed around or tolerate such insults to her people. She sets her hands on her hips and meets the other girl's gaze. "And who are you, to judge the shinigami?" Rukia questions coldly, subtly prodding for information all the while.

"Ne, Hiyori? You aren't really gonna be baited by this chick, are you?" The tall blonde man tries to stop his short companion, but she isn't to be contained.

She tosses her remaining sandal at his face to keep him out of the way. "Shud up, ya baldy!"

Shiro feels the good first impression he had of the other man wither and die right there. He hadn't even tried to stop the shrimp! "Oi! Why are you letting her knock you around like that? This isn't some type of stupid anime, where abusive couples are funny or somethin'! Get your ass into gear!"

"Er…" Shinji quickly glances at the boy, giving an annoyed _'are you an idiot'_ look- one hand still pinching his nose. Shiro abruptly and belatedly realizes what Shinji had been trying to do- he was trying to distract Hiyori for them… Not that this repairs Shinji's image in Shiro's mind's eye. He doesn't need protection! Unfortunately though, Shiro's little outbursts attracts Hiyori's attention back to the matter at hand as she loudly and proudly proclaims, "I'm Hiyori Sarugaki, ya stuck up bitch. A red-blooded Vizard through an' through!"

Shinji would facepalm if he weren't already holding his bleeding nose. "Now you've done it…" he mutters in frustrated resignation.

"Vizard…" Rukia repeats under her breath, hands slowly lowering to her side although she does stand her ground. "Impossibile. They were exiled-"

Hiyori snorts in a distinctly unladylike fashion. "Yeah, and where do you think we were exiled _to_?"

Understanding what Hiyori is implying, Rukia instantly takes offense. She steps forward aggressively, raising a fist. "The Soul Society would never endanger the human world by exposing it to such abominations. They would have sent the Vizards to Hueco Mundo!" _That's right, it can't be…_ She tries to reason with herself. _The vizards haven't been seen in over a century, and these two goofballs couldn't be… but they could- their power, and I can tell they're trained, and those katana… Are they carrying zanpakuto?!_ Hiyori's tale is becoming more and more likely, but Rukia clings to her stubborn loyalty and trust in the Soul Society.

"Ouch…" Hiyori's companion mutters under his breath, having heard the venom in Rukia's voice. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Jus' what are they teachin' you kids at the Shin'o Academy these days?" Rukia's chest tightens, as this show of knowledge is just another testament to them being who they say they are.

"Oi," Shiro butts in. "I think I might've missed that class," he deadpans. "Who the hell are you- what was it, buzzards?"

"It's _Vizards,_ ya moron!" Hiyori screeches.

Shiro smirks at the reaction and crosses his arms. "Well?" he prods.

It's Rukia who responds. "From my history class at the Shin'o academy, the rest of my classmates and I learned of the exiled Vizards. It's a cautionary tale on how power corrupts, both figuratively and literally. The Vizards, once powerful shinigami, were so desperate for power that they convinced the former head of Research and Development to experiment on them and turn them into hollow-shinigami hybrids. They gained immense power as they had hoped- but at the loss of their sanities."

"So _that's_ what they're teachin'. What a drag. No imagination at all…" Shinji complains carelessly, obviously put-off by the tale.

"Tch. These guys? _Insane_? I don't know 'bout the squirt, but the other guy…?" _The guy liked my jokes. Doesn't seem too insane to me._ That's how Shiro would have finished, if he had the time.

Shinji appears very pleased by this assessment if his growing grin is anything to go by. Hiyori, not so much. "I'll show you insane, ya damn Shiiiiiiiniiiiigaaamiiiii!" All out of sandals by this point, she runs straight at him, pulling her katana out in a flourish from behind her back. Red reiatsu, so akin to Shiro's own, erupts around her as she goes. Rukia fires some kido at Hiyori, but in her weakened state it hardly slows the charging maniac down.

"Not there is anything wrong with insanity!" Shiro yells over the reiatsu-triggered winds that now circle violently around the crumbled remains of the Warehouse. He lowers his voice for this next part, a sly expression and smirk making its way to his face. "After all, it makes things all the more fun." At the last possible moment, he draws his sword and brings it up to meet the katana in a flurry of sparks.


	7. Chapter 7

Shiro can feel his blood rushing wildly in excitement as he brings his sword down in another powerful strike. Despite his opponent's small stature and assumed frailty, she shrugs the attack off, with no problem. This causes Shiro to grin all the wider. He hasn't had this much fun since the first night he got his powers. Sure, his fight with Grand Fisher was tough, but he hadn't enjoyed it in the least. That was his mother's murderer, and he didn't want to chance it escaping. Now though, he can take his time, test his abilities against someone clearly as powerful and violent as him.

"Hey, snaggletooth, what's your name? Unless you want me to keep callin' ya snaggletooth…"

She snarls at the nick name, but nonetheless (or maybe because of it) she responds immediately. "Sarugaki Hiyori." She feints her own overhead strike, only to quickly change it into a slash aimed across his middle. She's fast, sword almost a blur, and Shiro is strained to keep up. He avoids the tip if only barely, ripping his uniform somewhat to do so. "I would ask your name if I actually cared about shinigami bitches like you," Hiyori adds smugly, seeing how Shiro is struggling to keep up with his more nimble opponent. His heavy sword weighs him down more than he'd like to admit.

"I'm not anyone's _bitch._ I fight hollows and you 'cause I _want_ to, not because someone else says I should."

Despite herself, Hiyori seems pleased with this proclamation. She kicks off the side of Shiro's blade when he gets too close, getting some space in between them. She smirks, a blonde eyebrow arching. "Oh, yeah?" She questions rhetorically. "Bet your higher-ups don't like that. What's your name, shinigami?"

Shiro returns the smirk whole-heartedly. "Kurosaki Shiro."

"You better be the fourth son in your family; else that's just sad… Who would name their poor albino kid _White_?" Shiro, when used as a name, means fourth son. Otherwise the word most commonly means 'white'.

Shiro shrugs. "It fits," he returns modestly, not affected by her barb in the least. He is about to say more when he hears a small gasp from Rukia. Shiro realizes with a start that Shinji is no longer in his previous spot. Instead, somehow, he has gotten behind Shiro and attacked the other shinigami… Rukia, who was not participating in the battle at all, but instead fiddling with her phone. Reporting the location of the Vizards to her superiors, maybe? Shiro decides it doesn't matter what she was doing, not when Shinji has just brought his hand to her neck and she has collapsed at his feet. Shiro can't tell if the strike merely incapacitated her, or if it in fact broke her neck. He tenses, staring at Rukia's prone and seemingly boneless body. He would surely pale at the implications, if it were possible for albinos to do so.

"Left yourself open!" Hiyori shrieks, bringing her blade to slice at Shiro's neck. He pulls back yet still receives a cut. She brings up her sword for a slash, and this time it is blocked. Hiyori exerts more pressure on their locked blades. "What's wrong, lover boy?" she taunts with a coo. "All weak in the knees at seeing your girlfriend downed so easily?"

"Weak…" He shakes, and at first Hiyori arrogantly thinks it's in exertion or fear. Soon though, it is revealed to be laughter. He does so uproariously, Hiyori taken aback by the sound. Remembering Rukia's collapsed figure, all Shiro feels is cold inside, despite his laughter. Something inside of him snaps then and there, releasing something unholy terrifying. "Far from it." His reiatsu skyrockets. This has happened twice before; the first time against the porcupine hollow, after the shock of garnering his first injury in a hollow battle. The second was when he fought the Grand Fisher. Neither of those instances match the reiatsu increase that occurs now. The remnants of the warehouse tremble under the pressure, walls further crumbling to pieces.

Hiyori pulls back, stunned expression firmly in place. "What?!" she shrieks. "How are you doing this?! You weren't nearly this strong a few moments before!"

His stance shifts to a more offensive one, right foot sliding forward and blade raised. He propels himself forward, unconsciously using his newfound power to quicken his movements. Hiyori raises her blade, expecting another straight-forward assault, only for Shiro to offer a light, glancing attack and actually jump over the girl. As soon as he lands behind her, he swiftly whirls around while bringing his sword to bare. Hiyori is fast enough to block, but the action does take her by surprise and her footing is all wrong. She skids backwards on her butt, letting out a very dirty curse accompanied by a demand "Answer me!" She yells angrily to the (until this point) unresponsive boy.

"Who cares? I'm not questioning it. You should just concentrate on whatcha going to do now!" He cackles, a battle crazed look in his eyes that says it all. Hiyori's lips upturns at seeing this, much like a smaller animal would to a threatening predator. Determined not to be intimidated though, she leaps back into the fray. By this point Shiro's style has transformed from a more controlled and analytical one, to a more berserker style. Each strike is twice as powerful as it was before. Every time he gets a bloody gash courtesy of Hiyori's zanpakuto, he subconsciously closes that hole in his preverbal armor while increasing the viciousness of his own strokes. Suddenly, Hiyori finds herself on the defensive. Shiro has become a force to be reckoned with- less calculated and more instinctual.

"You alright there, Hiyori? Looks like you need some help…" Shinji questions idly with a bored expression, hand straying to his own sword.

Shiro laughs even louder at this. "Bring it on!" he taunts, pressing his newly won advantage over Hiyori, perhaps unwisely.

Hiyori has the opposite response. "Idiot! I can deal with this punk on my own. Chop cleanly, Kubikiri Orochi!"

Shiro's laughter patters off at this development, although his eagerness for this fight only seems to grow. He stares at her sword in wide eyed wonder, which has now transformed in a cleaver with serrated saw-like blades. "That's more like it!" he cheers, vaguely wondering if this is something unique to Vizards or a topic he hasn't touched on yet with Rukia. As Hiyori raises her sword and Shiro's bloodlust overtakes him again- he decides that he doesn't care and is quick to meet her strike for strike. Something has changed though. Even thanks to Shiro's sudden rush of amazing power that makes him feel invincible, Hiyori's own power has grown even more so. Shiro grunts after blocking a strike that would have severed him in half. The strength behind the blow forces him back a few paces and… chips his blade? It happens again… and again… and again… Little by little his sword is being destroyed. "Shit, no!" he curses his misfortune under his breath.

Now it's Hiyori's turn to laugh. "What's with your sword?! Is that thing even a proper zanpakuto? It's so brittle!"

"Shut up!" Shiro snaps, an abrupt change in emotion as he is so known to occasionally do. He continues to act on instinct, swinging at her as quick as he can to stop her brutal offensive. It doesn't work. The terrible sound of metal along metal is taken to new heights as Shiro finds himself with a blade broken in half. Hiyori's sword would have cut him neatly in half too, if Shinji didn't pull him back last second. Shiro is in shocked to say the least. One of his enemies broke his blade and almost killed him, while the other just saved his life.

"The fuck!" Hiyori yells in outrage at her companion, glaring accusingly at him. "Why did you save him?!"

At any other time Shiro would no doubt demand to know the same thing. This isn't any other time. He is still steeped in that bloodthirsty instinct that has taken him this far. He lost his weapon, and he'll be damned if he just stands there and does nothing about that. Shiro snarls lowly, startling Shinji into releasing the back of his uniform. The bottom half of Shiro's broken sword is in hand, Rukia collapsed nearby, and Shiro cannot recall the last time he has been this angry. Dropping the now useless metal, his first impulse is to grab the weapon of the man who just saved him, yet he refrains. An interesting thought arising above the red haze of his mind had given him pause. Wasn't the whole point of learning kido is being able to fight at distances _and_ without one's weapon?

As the boy quickly creates some distance between him and Shinji, a calm settles over him. That blood red mist over his mind dissipating, although the power gained from it lingers permanently. He readies himself for attack, falling into a comfortable front stance with hands upraised. Shiro has questions, of course he does, but now isn't the time. Rukia is down, he is alone without a weapon. When he's beaten the Vizards and they're lying in a pool of their own blood, then he can ask his questions- if they can still speak, that is.

"Don't aim to kill." Shinji warns Hiyori quietly, but with no other sound to be heard, Shiro understands him perfectly. He raises an eyebrow at this, but isn't about to return the favor. He's planning to go at them with everything he has- his fists and the handful of kido spells he knows.

"Screw you…" Hiyori growls, and Shiro can't tell if that is a refusal or merely her automatic response to any authority.

There is a pregnant pause. Shinji and Hiyori shuffle their feet forward slowly, in stances of their own. Of course, Hiyori is the one to make the first real move. With a yell she jumps swiftly forward, so swift that for a moment she is a blur, but Shiro was waiting for this and reacts accordingly. "Sho!" He calls out only the name, but it is enough. The attack smacks harshly against Hiyori's arms, chest and stomach. It knocks the air and no little amount of blood right out of her. She begins her tumble towards the unforgiving concrete below. Normally Shiro would lunge forward like a predator at the scent of its prey's blood. He hasn't forgotten about Shinji however, the bigger threat by far- especially when Shiro can't read him nearly as well as his little blonde partner.

Sure enough the man is already beside Shiro. He didn't even seen him move! Out of the corner of his left red eye, Shiro can see him moving his sword for close up strike from the diagonal bottom. Fortunately, the sword is still in its purple sheath, so instead of being forced to throw himself recklessly to the opposite side he brings up his foot for a somewhat risky counter. He actually steps on Shinji's sheathed sword and uses the movement of the strike to help him jump away. It pushes him back a lot further than Shiro expected, and he is very grateful he did this instead of trying to block. Blocking would have gotten him a nasty bruise, if not an outright broken bone.

The new distance, a good ten to fifteen feet, really amounts to nothing when fighting with an opponent so fast- therefore, Shiro doesn't waste a second. The word _Sai_ barely finishes leaving his mouth when Shinji reapers right in front of his face, one hand already behind the boy's guard. The spell doesn't let Shiro down though, and instead of that hand wrapping around his throat, it is twisted painfully behind Shinji's back by an unseen force. There is a sound of a sharp snap as something in that arm breaks. To Shinji's credit however, he doesn't make a single sound. He doesn't even let go of his sword when his other arm is twisted behind his back and he is brought down to the ground. Shiro brings his foot up to smash down on Shinji's head when he hears a slight _whooshing_ noise from behind him.

By this time Shiro has equated that noise with these Vizards' speed technique, and with Hiyori no longer in sight he can guess who it is. Shiro, as fast as he is able, pushes himself forward and twists his hand to point behind him. Not even bothering to turn around, he shouts _Sho_. It impacts against Hiyori sure enough, but Shiro doesn't escape unscathed either. The last blade of the girl's strange sword makes a gash down his back, tearing his shihakusho along the way. It is painful, but superficial. _Jus' ignore it for now and I can patch it up later,_ Shiro thinks while gritting his teeth and stumbling away. Unfortunately, it's not that simple. A bright light originates from Shinji, as one by one kanji appears hovering before him and dissipates. The man breaks the spell just like that, and is on his feet fast enough to avoid a swift (for Shiro) kick.

Shiro curses mentally. Used to having the advantage of speed in hand-to-hand fights, his usual style is naturally proving ineffective. This last stunt just proves that a change of tactics is direly needed, so change tactics he does. It's easy to hold off the straight-forward, charge right in Hiyori with a few well-timed and well-aimed Shos, but Shinji is another matter. Now relying on his superior speed and kido, he dances around Shiro with ease while firing off a Bakudo. Impossible to dodge with his own current speed, the golden chain wraps snugly around the boy. Shinji presses the advantage and moves forward for the final blow with his sheathed sword, but instead of backing away as expected, Shiro lunges forward. Even though his arms are still bound tightly to his side, he can bend his hand up enough to point at the man's hip. Shinji's eyes widen with realization. "Sh-" A smack to the substitute soul reaper's head cuts off the spell name. Shinji had headbutted him! Dazed, Shiro stumbles back and can do nothing when Shinji brings the hilt of the sword to his head.

There is a pregnant pause after Shiro's body crumbles to a heap at Shinji's feet and Hiyori cautiously makes her way to Shinji, clutching her sore chest. "Well." Shinji clears his throat, remembering the boy's insane laughter as well as his unprecedented strength… It would be hard to forget, especially since one arm still hangs limply at his side, definitely broken. "That was interestin'."

* * *

At first Shiro is silent, glowering hatefully from his uncomfortable position in the middle of the warehouse. His back wound still seeps blood (even wrapped in bandages applied none-too-gently by the Vizards), furthering his discomfort. Finally though, when absolutely no attention is forth coming and he is ignored for the most part, Shiro decides enough is enough. "Oi! Stop ignoring me!" Shiro demands, his reiatsu fluctuating wildly. Fortunately the walls of this particular warehouse are reinforced to withstand heavy reiatsu, although the same can not be said for its inhabitants. Rukia winces, currently being the weakest there and therefore most affected by the boy's spiritual temper tantrum, for lack of a better term. The several mid-level bakudo Shiro is entrapped in strains to withstand the pressure as well, but does so nonetheless. While Rukia is merely tied to a chair with some thick rope and a single bakudo, Shiro is forced to kneel on the cold, drab concrete- cuffed, bound and held in place so completely by binding spells that he can hardly breathe.

The short-haired blonde with a dress shirt, tie and sling around his arm (Hirako Shinji from what Shiro has heard) shoots him an annoyed look. While he might have been in good spirits at their first meeting, his newly broken arm has naturally soured his mood and opinion of Shiro. "Keep it down, brat. The adults are talking." Shiro seethes, but instinctively knows not to push his captors too much. He can tell they are dangerous, including Urahara who inexplicably knew that Shiro was kidnapped and even what he had been doing when the event occurred… _Stalker_ … The albino thinks bitterly, although admittedly this might be one of the few instances having a stalker is a good thing. He and Rukia are both fairly certain that their captors (or at least Hiyori) were heavily considering killing them and throwing their bodies in a ditch somewhere until the eccentric shopkeeper arrived- and hadn't that been a sight? For the most part, he was greeted as an old friend by the people Rukia calls 'Vizards'. _Better known as Bastards. When I get outta here…_ The deadly intent radiates from the teenager, despite his current (temporary) compliance.

Urahara and the rest have been whispering between themselves for awhile now. Shiro hardly makes anything out, but he does catch a few things by piecing repeated words together. One thing in particular he discovers sends him off the deep end. "WHAT?! I ain't agreeing to that!" This time Shiro's exclamation is so loud that it silents the room. All of the occupants in the warehouse turn to look at him. He is undeterred by their stares/glares, merely baring his teeth like a feral animal. "No way in hell," he growls, repeating his earlier sentiment.

The interior of the warehouse is very quiet. Rukia's muffled voice is heard from behind, a concerned warning no doubt, only to be ignored. He doesn't back down, instead continuing to challenge them with every move he makes. After a moment, the sound of Urahara's getas echoes ominously about. Shiro tenses as he slowly approaches, stopping just in front of the fiteen year old. He tilts Shiro's head up with the tip of his closed fan, smiling faintly. "Now, now, Kurosaki-kun; it won't be that bad. In fact, it won't bad at all! I'll be a great sensei! I'll teach you all you need to know about Kido- and more!" He beams brightly down at the temporarily speechless Shiro.

_No way. He's actually serious about this shit!_

Urahara goes on in a even more serious tone. "I can make you very strong, stronger than you could ever be on your own or with only a powerless shinigami's help. Now without your sword, you'll need all the help you can get, and who's to say my teachings won't be fun?" He taps Shiro's cheek with his closed fan, despite the boy's struggles to keep away from it.

The substitute shinigami hisses and spats in complete vexation. "I don't want yer damn help!" he snaps. _And why would you offer it?_ Shiro wants to ask, but doesn't.

"Maybe not want, but want and need are two different things, Kurosaki-kun~" He returns in a sing-song voice.

Shiro sneers, his response scalding. "Need a delusional, know-it-all control freak like you? Not a chance."

Hiyori snickers in the background. "Damn. The brat's got that baldy pegged good," she mumbles conspiratorially to the stoic Lisa, who nods curtly in response while flipping through some morally questionable magazines. Urahara, upon hearing this, moves his bucket hat to his chest in a mockery of being mortally wounded. His now ruffled blonde hair and exaggerated pained expression adds on to this imagery.

"Oh, this one is a spitfire," The flamboyant one with long, flowing blonde hair mutters meanwhile to the military-looking man. He has white hair and monstrous black combat boots. The man grunts in agreement, frowning harshly down at Shiro, not entertained in the least by the boy's unrepentant disrespect. Noticing the disapproval, Shiro throws him a challenging look. The humiliation of his situation is crushing the oh-so prideful teenager, causing him to lash out at anyone who even looks at him the wrong way.

Shiro returns his attention to Urahara. He's not there though. Shiro blinks. When had the man moved? Instead, he finds Urahara across the room speaking with Hirako again. _I really need to figure out how they do that,_ Shiro manages to note through all his churning emotions (mainly anger). "Don't worry so much, Hirako-kun. It'll be fine." At this he turns to address Shiro, cooing, "You'll be a good boy if they set you free, won't you, Kurosaki-kun~?"

"The best," is the flat reply as Shiro struggles to restrain his ever-growing ire.

Obviously this doesn't do much to assure the Vizards, but Urahara pretends to take it to heart. "There. You see? Hachi-san, undo the bindings if you would please." The large man silently complies after a brief hesitation and Hirako gives him the go-ahead. It takes awhile, but one they're off he springs to his feet. He takes more satisfaction in his previous captors' tense appearances than he probably should. The smirk that begins to form dies however upon noticing that Urahara is still smiling that cheery grin of his. Shiro wants to punch him, and only just restrains from doing so.

Instead, he rubs his sore rests and juts his chin out toward the bound Rukia. "And 'er?" Hachi is already on it, and she is free a moment later. Shiro is quick to help her of her gag, not wanting his only ally right now to be at a disadvantage in any way. She nods curtly in appreciation before they face the other occupants of the warehouse.

At first, neither group speaks, just studying each other. Considering each and every person present has trust issues, it is no surprise really to how tense the atmosphere. Mashiro is the one to break it finally, the ditzy girl appearing in front of Shiro with his giant sword in her possession- or at least the two broken pieces of his giant sword. Shiro is once again blown away by the speed at which these people can move. He suspects that she might be the fastest though, especially when not carrying around something so heavy.

"Hi there! This yours?" she questions, blinking innocently at him as she holds it out. Shiro is starkly reminded of Orihime for a moment, but quickly pushes the thought away. He wouldn't be fooled- there is a high chance that this is all an act.

"Why yes, jus' so happens that it is. Thanks." His sarcasm is either (miraculously) lost on her or the strangely green haired woman blatantly chooses to ignore it. She squeals happily and allows him to take it from her. Shiro forces himself to loosen his tight grasp on his sword's hilt. It wouldn't due to show how upset he is at his broken zanpakuto, at least not while surrounded by so many enemies as he is. Rukia and Shiro carefully inch their way to the exit, never turning their back on the others. Shiro's penetrating gaze never leaves Urahara (although he keeps the rest in his peripheral vision). Urahara, for his part, has his face behind that damned fan of his, no doubt to hide his amusement at the pair's (well founded!) cautiousness. Even though Shiro can't see the grin behind the fan, he KNOWS it is there, and it drives him insane. He can't get to the exit with Rukia soon enough, and it takes all of their willpower not to dash away as soon as they leave the building. Their pride is hurt enough as it is- they aren't about to run away with their tails between their legs. No, they'll walk briskly and confidently back home- that's all.

Once there though… Rukia looks up to Shiro, worry clouding her dark, intelligent eyes. "I think you should stay far away from Urahara."

Shiro snorts. "Don't have to tell me twice."

After this, the pair spend the rest of the day concentrating on shunpo at Shiro's insistence. After seeing the technique in action with Urahara and the Vizards, he isn't ready to be at such a speed disadvantage anytime soon. Rukia tries to tell him that even academy trained shinigami students don't learn that until at least their second year of training, but of course the boy doesn't listen to reason. Unfortunately, Shiro never gets the hang of shunpo that day. He is able to stand in the air now by using the reishi there, yet shunpo seems to be just out of reach. It doesn't help that in her state, Rukia can't actively demonstrate for him… _I can make you very strong, stronger than you could ever be on your own or with only a powerless shinigami's help._ Urahara's words echo in his mind. There's truth to be found in it, but Shiro only feels disgust at the mere prospect of going to that man for help. Rukia's more than enough. _So what if I can't get it on one day?_

Then he remembers. His competition with Ishida is tomorrow. In all of the excitement that day, he'd nearly forgotten. How is he going to purify hollows without his zanpakuto? He was hoping to garner some much needed mid to long range abilities that day- but instead he lost his greatest asset. Sure, he still has his martial arts skill and the couple of kido he learned, but is that really enough? He lost to those Vizards with only that available (even if he did make them work for it), and truthfully he doesn't fancy the idea of going against hollow's claws and teeth bare-handed. _Urahara's offer is becoming more and more tempting…_ Shiro can't help but admit to himself, although the firm reluctance is still there. His pride, it would seem, still outweighs his desire for power.

By this point Shiro is back in his room. He slips into his body without a fuss and is relieved when all of his aches and pains disappears. His shinigami form might be in pain, but his human body is in perfect health (more or less, the cuts from the glass the day before still healing). He let's out a breath and lays himself down, fingering the cross strung around his neck. After a moment, his hand curls tightly around the charm. The idea of losing this tomorrow makes him feel like he is being strangled. Not to mention, his family would crucify him for losing something so important, especially after all the trouble he went through to get it from his old man. His chest tightens as nerves set in- and he smiles. He feels alive- like he actually has something important to lose and gain by what happens next.

**Author's Note:**

> This little plot bunny attacked me while I was agonizing over writing the next chapter to Beyond Death, and just wouldn't leave me alone. How different would things be if Shiro was the human-turned-shinigami…? And Ichigo the zanpakuto? I doubt that this will be a serious fic, more like a series of one-shots with the theme previously mentioned. Old Man Zangetsu won't be making an appearance- sorry if anybody wanted to see him involved.
> 
> So… What do you guys think? I'm pinning Shiro initially as an anti-hero, a chaotic neutral if you know about the alignment system. As for the title "Paint", well… Bleach turns things to white. Maybe the original is called this in reference to how Ichigo hollowfies and loses practically all sense of reason when fully hollowfied? In this story though, the pigmentless protagonist is already without purpose. He needs to discover one, and will be changed by the people he meets and powers he gains along the way… By now, hopefully you've obtained the gist of what I'm trying to impart. If not, rambling on any more won't help and I apologize for confusing you. x3
> 
> Anyways, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading.


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